Dear Karma
by Mein Benutzername
Summary: Samantha Johnson was never particularly prone to wild fantasies or dreams of grandeur. In fact, she was rather grounded in her view of reality, and it was expected that reality stay grounded with her. Unfortunately for her, reality doesn't always agree. As she encounters what is definitely too much for one teenager to handle, a small part of her has to wonder...why me?
1. Prologue - A Letter

Dear Karma

A Transformers Story

_Co-written by MeinBenutzername and A Humble Reader_

Summary: Samantha Johnson was never particularly prone to wild fantasies or dreams of grandeur. In fact, she was rather grounded in her view of reality, and it was expected that reality stay grounded with her. Unfortunately for her, reality doesn't always agree. As she encounters what is definitely too much for one teenager to handle, a small part of her has to wonder...just what in the world did she _do_ to piss Karma off?

_Note: MeinBenutzername and myself, A Humble Reader, in no way lay claim to any of the characters in this tall tale, the protagonist Samantha Johnson being exempt._

_Please enjoy the story and leave a comment, if you deem us worthy._

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Prologue

A Letter

_In which the end of the beginning gives way to the before, and the after, too._

* * *

Sometimes I wonder how, exactly, I get myself into these kinds of situations. I mean, yeah, I do seem to be able to find trouble pretty much everywhere I go, but this is just starting to get ridiculous.

No, scratch that. Ridiculous? Pah. How about...insane.

It's as if my life has marked a mile stone in all the stupid stuff that has ever happened to me. It decided that it wasn't even gonna try and be subtle about how badly it was gonna screw me over. No, instead it just plopped a load of complete and utter_**bull shit **_on my plate and said _"Eat up!"_

I mean...really? This is impossible. Now, I'm not saying that I'm some kind of joy killing stick in the mud who wouldn't believe in something unless it came up and bit me in the ass. I know people like that! But I'm not like that. I'm all for accepting the possibility of some pretty weird stuff.

But this? No. This is the exception. I, I just, I cannot comprehend, _why _anyone would...just...augh!

Normally I can take things in stride. Just had my house teepee'd before a huge storm? And left to clean it up alone? Yeah, I got that. Friends acting unbelievably idiotic and embarrassing me in front of an entire assembly? Hell, it's pretty much a common occurrence by now. Mom being utterly stubborn and doing exactly what she tells me not to? Well, maybe that upsets me more than what I'm comfortable with, but she was being a _total _hypocrite that time.

I can deal with hypocrites, though. I can _deal_ with stupid, embarrassing, unfair, _ridiculous _things. What I _can't_ deal with, is _this._

_All _of this. All of the bull being fed to me right now. Hell, I _might _have been able to deal with everything, if someone hadn't decided to put the icing on the cake for me there at the end. I mean, _really?_ As if it wasn't bad enough _before._

Whatever. I didn't write this letter to complain and whine at you about what happened. (Well, maybe I did, but that stuff up there isn't the main focus.) What I _did _write this letter for, was to tell you something very important, that concerns more than just me.

While I _appreciate, _all of the..._special attention._ There is only one, tiny little problem with this whole situation, sweet heart.

Karma, darling. You know I love you, but...

I have a list of people you missed.

* * *

_Note: Thus concludes the prologue. It's but a mere teaser, I'm afraid. At this point in time we have made remarkable progress in a number of mere days, which is highly unusual considering how quickly things are normally accomplished. We are trying our very best to stay ahead of you all, chapter wise, but very soon complications with schedules are soon to arise, so updates may be sporadic, at best._

_In the meantime, we highly appreciate any attention you have paid to our story. The next installment, the next official one, anyway, has been _completed_, but we plan to space updates out. We are currently working as diligently as we can to provide what we hope to be an engaging, if somewhat slow in the beginning, fiction for you hungry readers to feast upon._

_Future chapters will be much, much longer. (Of this we can guarantee.)_

_Thanks much, and please come again._

_Criticism and advice is welcomed._


	2. If Only I Had Stayed in Bed

Dear Karma

A Transformers Story

_Co-written by Mein Benutzername and A Humble Reader_

_Beta and Advisor: sacrificialHarmony_

_Note: The first (official) installment. The authors of this fiction lay no claim to any of the characters except Samantha Johnson, one of our own creation._

_Please allow us to give credit to a helpful friend who makes an excellent sponge to bounce ideas off of, sacrificialHarmony. He has been a huge help in developing the universe that this fic is placed in, and incidentally, turning this into more than the crack fic that was originally intended. Also an excellent beta, and good at spotting possible plot holes._

_Enjoy, and leave a comment if you deem us worthy._

* * *

Words: 5589

Pages: 16

Chapter 1

Part 1

If Only I Had Stayed in Bed

_In which early morning premonitions are correct and one can only dream of having listened to them in the first place._

* * *

There was no movement in the bedroom of one Samantha Hope Johnson. A feeling of calm and relaxation drifted like the tiny dust particles dancing in wayward beams of sunlight.

Light pink walls, decorated with delicate, fluttering fairies and winding green vines, complimented the various pieces of furniture, painted in bright colors to contrast the softness of the room. Bookshelves spilled their varied contents across the hardwood, mingling with the clothes, toys, and stuffed animals strewn about with them on the floor.

In-between two windows and stretching to the middle of the space, was a four poster bed. Decorative Christmas lights were strung around the rim, glowing dimly down on a colorful nest of quilts, pillows, and more stuffed toys.

It was within this jumble that Samantha was sleeping peacefully, in a bedroom that quite frankly, would be just about every little girl's dream.

...A dream that was shattered when the princess-castle themed alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed flashed its numbers to eight o'clock, and that glassy silence was broken by the sound of epic guitar rips and a screaming that was hesitant to be called words by even the most devoted of listeners.

With a surprised shout and a panicked flailing, the girl who was previously snuggled warmly in the blankets, managed to bodily throw herself from the bed and onto the floor. There was a frantic scramble for the alarm, and then a sigh of relief when the air was left in silence once again.

Taking a moment to appreciate it fully, she smiled to herself happily.

Before letting it drop abruptly and releasing a painful groan, allowing her body to fall limply to the floor in a rather _un-_happy heap. She laid there a while, breathing deeply and glaring at the hardwood with dark green eyes, as if the dead trees were the cause of everything horrible in the world. Sighing again, she lessened her glare and studied the cracks between the boards.

"I shouldn't get up." She murmured gloomily. "It's going to be a bad day today, I can just tell. I should just lay here. And go back to sleep. And not worry about anything. Because...ugh, I just shouldn't get up." She debated with herself internally for a few moments, wondering if it was worth the effort of _moving_ to either get herself off the ground and standing, or at the very least into her bed.

With a resigned feeling, she groaned again and slowly raised herself up on shaky arms, until she was on her knees, and then standing on her feet. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the palm of one hand, she yawned and reached out for the sticky note stuck to her lamp on the nightstand. Once she had wiped away most of the blurriness, she squinted and read her note.

"Remember to take Sweetie into town for a walk, and pick up the cake. Mom's birthday is Thursday, and you still need to get her a good present, too. Oh yeah. Thursday is...like...the day after tomorrow isn't it? Huh." Shrugging to herself, she tossed the scrap of paper back onto the nightstand and instead made her way over to her dresser with a large yawn. Pulling open the second drawer sluggishly, she dug through the assorted T-shirts lazily until she found one to her liking. Grabbing a pair of shorts from the drawer above, she quickly changed and went onto her next order of business; attempting to tame the wild rat's nest that sat atop her head.

Samantha awkwardly slipped on a pair of socks before heading to the bathroom, weapon in hand. She glared at herself in the mirror before taking a deep breath and attacking her hair with the brush.

After a few minutes of curses and grunts, she managed to change it from an untamable mess of matts and knots, to a much more manageable wall of frizz. Grumbling slightly, she cursed herself again for keeping it so long as she grabbed the hair straightener lying ready for use beside the sink. She made a mental note to herself to make a physical note later to man up already and get a shorter haircut. And maybe use conditioner every once in a while.

Once she had flattened her bush-woman hair to something well within the range of normal brown locks, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, just like she did every other morning she managed to drag herself out of bed before noon.

"Alright Sammy." She said, addressing her reflection in the mirror. "Go into town and take Sweetie for a walk. Get mom's present, _don't forget, _and maybe grab some snacks so you can invite *Pens and Anna over for a sleepover or something. Yeah. Sounds like a plan." Nodding, she made her way back out of the bathroom and into her own room again, digging through the clutter on her floor so she could find a pair of shoes. Once she had them, she left her room again, closing the door firmly behind her. Samantha walked lazily into the kitchen, humming to herself as she went.

"Sweetie!" she called. As she opened up the pantry door, a huge beast came loping joyously into the room and pranced up next to its owner happily. Sam looked down and smiled at the golden retriever, leaving her searching for a moment to cuddle with the dog.

"Who's a good girl!" She cooed, giving her pet a great big hug. The dog just pushed further into her embrace, tail wagging happily. "You are! Yes you are! Because you're my Sweetie Pie! Mhmm!" In response to her meaningless noises of comfort and love, said Sweetie Pie gave the girl a great big slobbery kiss on the cheek, to which Sam just giggled.

Satisfied for now, Sam stood up and looked through the pantry a little longer, before snapping her fingers after having found whatever she was looking for.

"Here it is." She crooned. "Cookies for the road! Alright." She placed the plastic bag full of homemade chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen table and went to the living room to find her bag and the leash for Sweetie. Once she was ready, she pulled a sticky note and a pen from her purse (with cookies now resting safely inside) and left a message for her mom, saying she had gone out for a walk and to maybe buy some snacks. She stuck it firmly to the door before replacing her items, hooking her dog up to the leash, and stepping outside.

And she groaned as soon as she did so.

Why hadn't she checked the weather? It was sweltering outside, and even though she dressed for a little heat, this was ridiculous.

"I knew I should have stayed in bed." She muttered. Shutting the door behind her and locking it with her key, she began the slow walk down the neighborhood and into town. "Look at this weather. Ugh. By the time we make it to the grocery store I'll be sweating enough liquids to end a drought and you'll be fried Retriever on a leash." Samantha wiped a hand across her forehead, which already seemed to be sweating bullets. She groaned again, and sped up a little. "I bet my cookies will melt too!" Eventually the girl and her pet settled into a light jog, and they made it to the local store in about ten minutes. The door opened with a tingle of bells, and the cashier looked up giving a big grin as the sweaty, grumpy customer entered.

"Hey there Sunshine! What's kickin'?" Sam glared half-heartedly at the girl running the register, but gave in and approached her anyway, making sure to keep Sweetie Pie close.

"My name ain't Sunshine, Anna-poo. But besides melting in this heat? Not much." Anna waved off her grumpiness with a smile.

"Whatever you say, Sunny. What brings you to ye olde shoppe of blandness today?" Sam allowed a small smile at the joke, despite the abhorred nickname, and absently opened her purse up to grab the bag of cookies.

"Actually I was thinking of grabbing some snacks so me, you, and Pens could have a slumber party before Mom's Birthday comes around. So like, tonight. Oh, and I might need one of you guys to help me pick out a present, because I really have no idea what to get for her. And I'm running out of time." Anna, who by this time had managed to set her whole body on top of the counter so she could reach the dog happily panting by her friend's side, gave a little nod before responding.

"Sleepover tonight means Momma Bear's B'day is the day after tomorrow, right? And your mom...hm..." suddenly, the brunette flipped herself upright again and back on her side of the counter, a grin splitting her face.

"I gotcha covered, Sunny dear! Follow me. Boss won't mind, anyway, no one has really come in yet." Sam sighed and followed her friend, giving Sweetie some slack on the leash so she could go in front of her and sniff what she liked. Anna practically skipped down the aisles and eventually she was led to the store's meager supply of books, leaving Sam to frown.

"A book? I don't know if Mom would like that." Anna snorted and gave Sam a look that said 'Seriously? Are you for real?' Sam just glared in return.

"Well Sunshine, you're worse at this than I remember. No, wait, it's my fault. I should have thought of all those birthdays where I was given less-than-suitable gifts at the last minute because of your inability to think for yourself. My bad, next year remind me to just get the gift for you ahead of time and save your mom the disappointment." The glare only intensified at this statement, which was soon accompanied by a smirk.

"Anna." The girl went from a sly smirk to an innocent smile in nano seconds.

"Yes, darling?"

"Just help me find a present." She growled. Anna pouted but it was quickly smoothed into a smile again.

"What do you think I'm doing, Sunny? Here, look. Your mom is a woman, right? I think you are too, but that's up for debate, especially since you haven't seemed to have caught on yet, but of course, that's a whole 'nother discussion entirely-"

"Anna so help me _God-_"

"Alright alright!" The girl quickly placated, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. She quickly passed over the shelves before grinning again and pulling one of the copies off. "Here, see?" she asked, handing the paperback to her friend. Sam took it and seemed to turn it around experimentally, until she found the summary.

**"_Eloquent Dysfunction _is the heart wrenching tale of two lovers separated by fate. They face tragedy and heart break as they fight through this world's woes to find each other, and challenge the designs the refuse to conform too by- is this a sappy romance novel?" Anna hid her giggles behind a slender palm, and gave her friend a sly look.

"It took half of the summary for you to figure it out?" Sam just scowled but tucked the book under her arm anyway, praying to somebody that her mom wouldn't see her present and throw it in the fire place.

"It's not inappropriate, is it?" she asked. "My mom won't try to burn it or gouge out her eyes?" Anna chuckled and began walking out of the aisle, Sam and Sweetie falling into step with her.

"No, it's perfectly acceptable, even by you and your mother's prude standards." She teased. Sam scoffed.

"As if you _or _Pens are anymore _vulgar _or comfortable with that kind of stuff than I am."

"Despite what you believe, you are a little more touchy on the subject of things like sex, or even kissing-" Sam gasped and shoved Anna's shoulder.

"Don't say that out loud! We're in public! That's disgusting." Anna just gave her a knowing look, to which Sam blushed, but only a little. "Okay, okay, I'm a prude, shut up. That should be a good thing." Anna just smiled again.

"Whatever you say, Sunshine."

"That's not my name! And my name isn't Sunny, either!" Anna laughed at her friend's expense, and the two continued harmlessly teasing each other as they picked out snacks for the anticipated sleepover that would happen later that evening.

Once she had gathered her supplies, Sam followed Anna back to the register, feeling maybe a little less grumpy that she had earlier in the heat that came with living on the edge of Arizona, practically halfway into the Nevada deserts. They chatted as they found, grabbed, and checked out her items, and Sam almost wondered if she would need help carrying all of these bags home with her. Or maybe if she should have been smart and taken the truck instead of walking.

Somehow, she managed to get ahold of every bag, and keep a firm grip on Sweetie's leash. Her arms were loaded to full capacity, and she was questioning her ability to walk. With no help from Anna, of course.

"You look like a walking coat rack, except with bags instead of coats." Anna told her, hands on her hips while her friend wobbled dangerously. Sam grunted.

"Yeah, thanks. You're such a huge help you know. Offering to carry some bags, get me a cart. I should find Boss and tell him how great an employee you are." She shuffled the bags on her arms again, trying to be more comfortable.

"You really should, you know. I'm so underappreciated around here. In fact, you should just go ahead and tell him to give me a raise. I really do deserve it after all of this hard work." Samantha snorted.

"Yeah, right. Anyway, call Pens and tell her to come to my place at eight. Hopefully by then everything will be set up, and we can watch a movie or something." Suddenly Anna's eyes lit up and she smiled hugely.

"Oh oh oh! Can we watch some more G1 episodes? You know you love them! I mean, the movies are okay, well, actually the first one is great, and the second one is meh, but the third one, jeesh, I wanna kill somebody-" Sam sighed.

"Anna."

"-you haven't watched them in so long! We have to finish season two and get onto season three, and quick! I think Pens might be watching ahead of us, and-"

"Anna..."

"-so really you don't even have a say in the matter, Sunshine! It's practically required! And-"

"Anna!" the girl's rant was cut off and she stared at Sam with large, pleading eyes.

"Please Sunny? Please oh please oh please?" Sam sighed.

"I was going to say yes in the first place before you decided to impersonate Bluestreak, but yes, since you asked _so _nicely, we can." Anna fist pumped the air with a quite 'Yes!' before hugging Sam happily.

"Awesome! We'll be there at eight, Sunflower! Be ready!" and with that she was back behind the counter with another wayward townsperson, leaving Sam to wobble on unstable legs out the door on her own. Sam was almost to the door when she realized what Anna had said there at the end. Turning around, she growled and yelled at her friend's back;

"My name is not _SUNFLOWER!_ It's _SAM!_" Sam about faced, ignored the peals of laughter from behind her, and grumped her way right out of the store.

Again, she was hit with by heat as though it were a wall of bricks, and her previous frustration with Anna was redirected at the unsavory weather conditions.

"Ugh. C'mon Sweetie. Time to start our death march back home." As she sluggishly made her way down the slowly busying main road of the little town she lived in with her mom, her thoughts drifted from topic to topic carelessly, leaving most thoughts incomplete or flat out confusing. Her thoughts bounced from the sleepover, to the heat, to how cute Sweetie was even when it was hot, to how hot it was like jeez it should be illegal to be so hot, to G1, the show Anna had mentioned, The Transformers.

She was by no means a die-hard for it like Anna seemed to be. And Pens wasn't either. This aside, all three girls did enjoy the silly, corny eighties cartoon, and the live action movies. (And Pens in particular was fond of the new Prime show, or whatever it was.) Anna was really the only insane one.

She had gone about learning each and every bot's name (if she could help it), their personality, their faction. She suddenly knew every single car brand out there and was working her way into knowing the make and model by sight alone.

Sam wouldn't deny that she enjoyed it, but sometimes it did seem like Anna was getting a little out of hand. She had almost mauled the owner of a yellow and black Camaro once when she saw them exit the vehicle, raving on and on about how much she loved their car and where did they get it and wow what a nice interior what was the model again? Oh and did you know this and that and-

And the girl nearly had to be dragged off of the flattered but quite terrified woman. She had never done anything so ridiculous since, (especially after a proper scolding) but she did her very best to incorporate it into her life. And Sam and Pens' lives too.

Like the Valentines card that Sam kept in her purse. It was something she would never admit to, but she really adored it. She thought it was funny, and cute. It read; _'If you were a transformer, you'd be Optimus __**Fine.**__'_

Anna would never know that she kept it in her purse either. It would only result in bodily harm to one or both parties, whether it was intentional or not.

Suddenly Sam was brought out of her jumbled thought processes by the low growling noises coming from Sweetie at her feet. A part of her brain registered that that was odd; wouldn't the Golden Retriever be up ahead sniffing willy nilly across the sidewalk like usual? Sam finally took the initiative to look down at her dog, who was practically _hiding _between her feet. Sam frowned. Looking up and in the general direction of where her poor puppy was glaring at, she couldn't help but let a small smile cross her lips.

"Ha. Really, Sweetie? It figures my dog would be afraid of a cop car. Come on girl; we have to go home before I melt in the heat." Sam tugged at the leash a little and attempted to take a step forward, but Sweetie wouldn't budge. Sam nearly tripped over the dog when the normally, well,_ sweet,_ animal began growling at the car more openly.

Her hackles were raised and the fur along her back bristled in fear and hostility. There was something very _wrong _sitting across the street from her master, and it needed to _leave. __**Now.**_

Sam didn't know any of this, of course. All she could see was that her dog was spooked by something as simple as a cop car and was acting pretty weird about it. Hopping awkwardly on one foot to regain her balance, she frowned again and squatted beside her dog, the grocery bags hanging off of her arms banging annoyingly against her legs and the ground.

"Sweetie Pie? Honey, what's wrong?" The dog didn't move, and in fact it only seemed to growl louder. Sam's frown deepened. What was wrong with her? "Sweetie! Stop it! You're scaring me!" Sam stood up again, looking down at her dog, who was now barking in between her growls, and backing up into her owner's legs, forcing her to take a few steps back.

Across the street, the door to the cop car opened and a single man in uniform stepped out. He slowly approached Sam, who was trying to tug her dog away from the edge of the street again. He stopped far enough away that he wouldn't be too close to the dog, but close enough he wouldn't appear rude.

"M'am?" He asked. The woman jerked her head up to look at him, smiling sheepishly, her cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment.

"Oh! Uh, Officer, I'm really sorry about this. My dog doesn't normally bark at all, I don't know what's gotten into her, she just started growling at your car and-" the man held up a hand for her to stop.

"It's alright. I just came to see if there was anything wrong." The woman shook her head.

"No, no really, it's fine. I'll just have to be more careful. _C'mon _Sweetie! We have to go! _Now._" Sam gave another tug on the leash, and Sweetie slowly took a step back, growling now at the man instead of just the car. The dog sniffed frantically, and apparently didn't like what it found, because the next thing Sam knew, Sweetie had lunged at the cop. The man didn't even bat an eye or take a step back. Sam yelped and nearly fell forward from the sudden jerk, but managed to stay standing. "Sweetie!" she yelled. The officer was staring down at her dog, who was now only about a foot away from him and still growling, with a thoughtful frown on his face. Slowly he bent down and rested a hand on top of the dog's head. The growling stopped abruptly and for a moment, Sweetie Pie looked almost _confused. _

It was this moment that Sam decided she really had caused enough trouble and quickly came forward, grabbing the leash of her dog as close to the collar as she could, pulling her back a little as the man stood up again.

"I am _so sorry!_" she exclaimed. "I've never seen her act like that before, I swear! I don't know what made her go crazy like that!" The man allowed a small smile and looked at her reassuringly.

"It's no problem. I guess I should have realized coming out here wouldn't be such a good idea. My wife owns a lot of cats, and it usually makes most dogs a little antsy." He released a small chuckle. "In fact, I probably smell like cats too. I'm sure your dog didn't mean anything by it. It's my fault for taunting her with the prospect of chasing her arch enemy up a tree." He tipped his hat at her and began walking away. "Have a nice day M'am. Tell your dog I'm sorry for the smell." Sam smiled in relief.

"You too! Bye!" He gave one last wave before climbing into his car again. Sam turned away with a sigh as he drove off, giving her dog a weird look.

Sweetie, however, was acting as though nothing had ever happened, looking up at her owner adoringly with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Sam shook her head, and brushed it off as cats, like the man had said. Giving the leash a little tug for good measure, and to make sure Sweetie wouldn't act up again, Sam started on her way back home.

"Well, there was the embarrassing part of my day. Maybe after this it will lighten up." She muttered to herself.

Sam didn't see the door shut on its own when the officer got into his car, or the weird look his partner gave him as he flickered out of existence and the car rolled away. Instead she kept on walking down the road, blissfully ignorant that she had just witnessed and been a part of something very strange for such a sleepy little town.

About half an hour later when Sam finally made it back home, skin slick with sweat and clothes practically dripping, the teen had to physically restrain herself from collapsing on the couch and not moving until the next ice age. Instead, she quickly unclipped Sweetie from her leash and allowed the dog to happily trot to her water bowl, lapping up the cool liquid noisily.

Sam wondered, not for the first time, if her sweet baby girl was actually a demon in disguise. It definitely seemed like she did some things just to taunt her.

Arms weak and shaky, Sam stumbled blearily through the hall and into the kitchen, barely managing to lift the snacks onto the table. When she had removed all traces of plastic from her arms, she quickly lay down in a heap on the floor, panting.

For a few minutes Sam didn't move. She just panted as her body cooled down on the hardwood, silently thanking whoever it was that invented the glorious thing that was air conditioning. Sweetie moseyed on over to join her, laying her head on Sam's thigh as she too decided a bit of R&R was in order after their exciting walk.

Sam breathed deeply as she studied the off-white ceiling of the kitchen, her eyes finding all the little cracks and places where the paint was peeling. She roamed the walls, covered in some cheap fruit wallpaper, and the small table with its miss-matched chairs. She released her breath in a long-suffering sigh, and closed her eyes to enjoy the serene peacefulness that the quiet and familiar surroundings gave her.

There was a shuffling to her left, in the direction of the hallway, before a familiarly amused voice spoke.

"And good morning to you too, Mrs. Drama Queen. My my, not even twelve o'clock and you've exhausted yourself. What's on today's schedule to merit so much early morning shopping?" the woman speaking stepped carefully over her daughter's prone form to give a cursory inspection of the bags laying haphazardly on the table, not unlike her lazy teenager resting on the floor. "All I see is junk. Planning something?"

Sam only groaned in response, and flung one arm over her eyes as if it would make the voice go away.

There was a small chuckle, before the older woman stopped rifling through the bags and instead took to squatting down beside the teenager.

"What's up Sammy-mammy?" She asked teasingly. Sam sighed, but allowed the childhood nickname to slide. She really wasn't a fan of nicknames, at least not for herself, but for her mom? She could make an exception.

"Was planning a sleepover. Anna and Pens. I got dragged all across the store and back at least five times by the crazy devil. You cool with it?" She mumbled, barely moving her arm so she could see her mother's expression. Amused chocolate irises greeted her, framed by a brown halo of well-kempt curls and waves. Her mom was smiling and put one finger to the upturned corners of her lips as though considering.

"Hm. Well, you definitely asked me at least a day in advance. It's not like you went out shopping and left a note innocently saying something about 'snacks' and not even mentioning sleepovers. Nor did you dump it on me right as I was about to leave for work. No, you've been nothing but responsible." Her eyes glittered and Sam was rewarded a victorious smirk when she groaned.

"Auuugh. Mom, okay, okay, I get it, I should've asked. But I already told Anna, and she's probably blabbed to Pens about it by now, and Pens is probably close to manslaughter because of her rambling. Unless you suddenly want to be the cause of at least one murder and have your daughter under scrutiny as the lead suspect, you should just let it happen." With this statement Sam moved her arm completely from her face and allowed it to fall limply beside her on the floor. Her mom's smile twitched.

"Me the cause? And you the prime suspect? I thought Miss Yorkshire was the one committing first degree murder?" Sam rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, as though the answer were obvious. Which, in her opinion, it should have been. Because seriously, she had known her crazy friends long enough to have at least a rudimentary understanding of how these things worked.

"Well, _duh._ Pens is too smart to let the blame fall on herself. She'd either peg it on me or her sister, and I bet she'd even come forward as some kind of traumatized witness to boot. So unless you want to be the mother of a wrongly imprisoned criminal, you should totally let me have a sleepover tonight." Her mom looked at her a little longer, before caving and laughing at her daughters antics. Sam smiled. She loved being able to make her mom laugh like that.

"Well, since you've provided such a compelling argument, it's almost as though I have no choice! Of course you can have a sleepover honey. Just ask next time, okay?" Sam nodded and slowly began to sit up, groaning with effort as she did. Her mom, who had only been squatting, rose to her full height and extended a hand to help her struggling girl up as well.

When she was standing again, Sam took a moment to brush herself off before returning her attention to her mom. She was dressed in a slick navy business suit, pencil skirt and stiff jacket included. Her heels clacked noisily on the floorboards.

"You're heading to work before lunch?" Sam asked, moving around her to the table to begin unpacking her supplies. Her mom nodded absently, leaning against one of the chairs and twirling a strand of her hair.

"Mhmm. It seems there's a special business partner that they need me to help convince our company is worth the risk. Of course, why me, I'm not sure, but you know. When your boss comes up to you and says 'Katherine. This is something that only you can do for us.', well, there's usually not much of an option for a 'no', now is there?" She shook her head and dropped the hair she was handling. Sam looked to the only parental figure in her life with a quirked eyebrow.

"Really? 'Only you'? That's weird. You can't do anything." Her mom gave an offended huff.

"Excuse me? Please remind me, young lady, who does the laundry and cooks...well, when she can? And who is it who always moans about wishing her cooking was as great as _moi?_" Sam laughed and held up her hands in surrender.

"Yeah, I know, I know! Whatever mom, have fun kissing up to more people. Do you want me to make you dinner? And by make dinner I mean order takeout for you instead of just me and Anna and Pens." Her mom pushed off the chair and grabbed her purse as she headed to the front door. Sam followed behind her, eating her forgotten and half melted cookies from her own bag.

"No, this meeting is actually more like a small trip. I'll be leading them on a tour of the facilities, and then we'll discuss over dinner. We'll be staying at a hotel since tomorrow we're also going to be going over some of the more distant compounds. I'll be back around seven tomorrow night, sweetheart." It was then that Sam noticed the small briefcase her mom had been carrying, even in the kitchen.

"Really? Oh. Okay." Sam mumbled. She didn't particularly mind when her mom went on these trips, but she had been kind of looking forward to having her mom there with her and her friends to watch movies and goof off. She always had been more like a best friend than a mom.

Though she wasn't sure if it was because of the hint of disappointment Sam let drift into her words, or maybe just her mom being _her mom_, she suddenly found herself in a nice, warm hug. Sam wrapped her arms around her in return, smiling.

"C'mon, you big sap." Katherine spoke soothingly. "Don't tell me you'd rather have me here to embarrass you to the best of my abilities? I could tell them about that one boy in middle school you know-" Suddenly it seemed as though Sam couldn't wait for her mom to be out of the house, and made as much clear as she began bodily shoving the woman out the door.

"Love you mommy, but I think you're right! I am being a sap! Have fun kissing up and eating fancy half-cooked steak!" Sam called when she managed to get her mom walking toward the car with laughter seeping out of her big smile.

"Just don't burn down the house while I'm gone, you hear?" Sam grinned and waved.

"No promises!" After her mom blew one last kiss and drove away, Sam shut the front door firmly, determined to keep the heat out. She sighed happily, and then started when she noticed a note on the door. It wasn't the one she had left that morning; this one was covered in doodles and smily faces. Peeling it from the door, Sam made her way back into the kitchen while she read the sticky's message.

She grinned before tossing it on the table and getting back to unpacking her supplies for the sleepover that was sure to be a blast later that evening.

She was also looking forward to the lunch her mom had prepared for her before she left. Reheated Mac and Cheese, straight out of the microwave, really was the best.

* * *

_*Pens – The nickname for one of Sam's close friends. It stands for Penelope, and, however ironic, the girl's notable writing capabilities. Not that her friends knew about that._

_**Eloquent Dysfunction – As far as we are aware, this is not a real novel. We mostly just came up with some sappy, stereotypical plot fixtures and shoved it into a somewhat half-assed summary. If this is a real novel and we somehow managed to give a verbatim description of the summary, well, first of all please work on writing a better one. And secondly, we apologize for unintentionally using your title/idea or offending you._

_Note: Chapter 1 Part 2 has been completed. Very soon things will start to happen. __ We thank you for the support given to just the prologue, and hope you enjoyed._

_Thanks much, and please come again._


	3. If Only I Had Stayed in Bed - Pt 2

Dear Karma

A Transformers Story

_Co-written by MeinBenutzername and A Humble Reader_

_Beta and Advisor: sacrificialHarmony_

_Note: And so our slow going tale continues. This is Chapter one, Part two. We figured the last point was as good a place as any for an ending, and needed a bit of a time skip anyway._

_We have no idea how long this may or may not drag out, or if the vague plot line constructed will hold true. We cannot guarantee completion, though we will do our best. There always was a bit of a risk with just winging it like this._

_A humble thank-you to those who reviewed and provided words of encouragement, criticism, and professed excitement for the chapters to come. Favorites and follows that we have acquired are also highly appreciated._

_Please enjoy the story, and leave a review if you deem us worthy._

Words: 7525

Pages: 23

* * *

Chapter 1

Part 2

If Only I Had Stayed in Bed

_In which early morning premonitions are correct and one can only dream of having listened to them in the first place._

* * *

After a few grueling hours of preparing, moving furniture, some creative construction projects, and minimal amounts of cleaning, Sam decided that she was _so _done getting ready for the sleepover.

To describe the results of her work, in few words, would be simple.

It was epic.

She had pushed the couch back from the TV, made use of the coffee table in the center of the living room as a convenient snack bar, and set the reclining chairs in a strategic circle around the TV. Draped over the couch and one of the chairs was a pale pink sheet, and underneath it was every single pillow she could find. The rest of the exposed floor was covered with blankets, and it had Sam feeling quite proud of her efforts.

After she was done admiring her work, Sam sighed happily and slumped her way into the kitchen like only a teenager could. The Mac and Cheese earlier had been great, but she'd been doing _manual labor _for the past few hours, and her stomach had decided that she was either gonna pay up or suffer the consequences.

"Oooooh. I want some of those snacks. You hear me Sweetie? But I can't eat them. If Anna found even one bag that looked suspect of having been maybe tampered with before the proper sleepover rituals, I'd be dead. I'd be worse than dead. But…" Sam whined to the dog who lay on the floor, staring up at her with big sleepy eyes. Sweetie's tail thumped once, twice, before the dog yawned and closed its eyes for a nice nap. Sam scoffed and made her way over to the pantry.

"Fine then." Sam grumbled. She began rooting through the food, looking for at least a half opened bag of chips or _something _to keep her innards in check. "Apparently my woes are too unimportant for you. We'll see how long it is until I buy you those bacon treats again, huh? Bet you'll be feeling pretty sorry then!" All she got in response to her threatening was a soft snort, as though Sweetie could tell she was lying and it was her way of saying _'Yeah, right. Try saying no to this face.'_

Finding some mostly gone Doritos, Sam swung the bag out of the pantry and glanced around the kitchen. She had moved some of the kitchen chairs into the living room earlier when she thought she might need them for the tent. But since she had decided to downsize it, and she hadn't moved them back yet...

Sam released a groan and finally settled for going outside with her find. She grabbed her entire purse instead of just her phone, (she needed her keys too, so this was easier than digging through a black hole anyway) and then opened the back door and sighed at the cool breeze that met her.

This was more like it. Since it was almost seven, the sun had let up on its assault and it felt much better than it had that morning. Now her hair didn't reform into a bush as soon as she stepped outside.

Closing the door softly behind her, she took a few slow steps, her bare feet seeking out sparse patches of grass instead of the rocky sand. One hand dug noisily through the chip bag as she walked, no particular destination in mind. Maybe she'd head out of the neighborhoods and catch a nice sunset. The sun went down before eight, right?

Well, she didn't really care right now. She'd rather just enjoy her nacho cheesy goodness and observe her surroundings.

As Sam munched and walked, she let her thoughts wander, much like they had earlier that day, with no pattern or real point to her musings.

This sleepover was going to be great, she was sure of it. It wasn't often she went to such lengths for a sleepover, but it had been a while since she and her girls had done anything together. Ever since Anna got her job at Jenkins' and Pens started babysitting. They just sort of stopped having time.

But aha, not this time! There was no way either of her friends could say no. Anna got off at five and Pens kids had gone on vacation for the summer.

And if they just didn't want to? Well, she'd find their traitorous asses and drag them to her house if she had to.

She would never admit it, especially not to said friends, but she missed being able to spend time with them. Even if she made sure to exude a sense of 'I'm a loner. I'm cool with hanging out, but being alone is just as great. I can handle myself.', she had felt a kind of gnawing in her heart at their increased absence.

And while that may have turned into a bit of extra grumpiness, it didn't help that she had so much bad luck lately, either.

Like earlier that day, when Sweetie went bezerk over that cop, just because he smelled like cats! Sweetie didn't even pay attention to cats. She just sniffed at them and walked away. Maybe she smelled all of the other dogs that had surely attacked the man.

But that was small, compared to earlier that week. She had gone to help out her friend Tiffany with some carwash thing the church was doing, and she (stupidly) wore a white T-shirt.

She didn't go there thinking she was gonna get a free wash with the cars! By the end of the day her top had been totally see-through and she was stuck hiding in a smelly old _port-a-potty _until her mom came to pick her up.

That had been Sunday. Last _Wednsday, _however, ugh...she was morbidly embarrassed just thinking about it. She was probably the laughing stock of the Daycare Staff by now.

She vowed, not for the first time, that she would never work with small children again. _Ever._

From there she drifted to less upsetting thoughts, like the snacks sitting on her coffee table. She hoped her mom wouldn't get mad if they somehow got crumbs on the couch. Or ground into the carpet. With soda. And shaving crème.

But to be fair that one had been a _total _accident. How was she supposed to know Pens would react that way to Jurassic Park? She'd seemed fine before...then again, all of those pop rocks...

Pop rocks. Hm. This desert-y area sure was full of rocks. One might even say they _popped up _out of nowhere! Which was funny, because she was in a desert, which was like the middle of nowhere! And she had said they popped up out of _nowhere, _ha. Sam let a smile slip past her cheese coated lips at her little joke. Hee hee. She was such a genius sometimes.

Her smile vanished in the next moment however, and was replaced by a few choice curses when she dropped her near-depleted bag and started hopping around on one foot like a total idiot.

"Ow ow ow! Owch! Stupid desert; stupid rocks!" Sam hissed as she grabbed her injured foot and promptly fell onto her behind, sending up a small cloud of dust. She cradled the injured appendage and rocked back and forth wincing whenever she jostled whatever had managed to impale itself within her flesh.

Gingerly, she maneuvered her foot up into an awkward twisted position, until she could see what it was that hurt _so much._ She sucked in a breath when she saw what looked like a shard of...well, she wasn't really sure. Metal, or glass, or something. She didn't really care.

Luckily for her, it wasn't very big, and it wasn't stuck very far in her foot. Growing up with more splinters than she ever cared to count seemed to have its perks.

That did nothing to make it stop hurting, however.

"Owwww...ow ow ow...okay, okay, c'mon Sammy...be a man! Rip it out...ugh, whenever I actually need Pens she's not around...at least Anna and Olivia aren't here to faint on me..." Sam had delicately gripped the shard and was having a mental debate over whether or not she really could just rip it out like Pens would've. Okay, she may have also been stalling with her random blabbing, but it was as good a distraction as any.

Before she could really process that she was gonna do it, Sam ripped out the thing mid half-formed thought.

"And I just-OW! Ow...oh...hey! That doesn't hurt as much anymore." Sam pulled the little triangle, which she still couldn't really identify, up to her face for closer examination. She grimaced at the blood, _her blood, _dripping from it, but studied it none the less.

Sam let it rest on one palm, and absently noticed it was really light weight, and a little shiny, despite the grime coating it. She looked up then, searching for the beer bottle or broken stereo it had surely come from.

Instead, all she saw were twisted hunks of metal half buried in the sand, surrounded by bits of glass and other trash. Some of the pieces were as long as to easily reach from her elbow to the tips of her fingers, while others were even smaller than the triangle that was previously buried in her foot. It was...weird. She had no idea what could have put all of this...well, junk out here. Maybe someone scrapped a car or something? But if that was the case, where was the car?

"This is...weird." Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. What was all of this? Curiosity piqued, the girl braced her hands on the packed dirt, and slowly raised herself off of the ground. Her injured leg was held awkwardly and rigidly in front of her while she struggled against gravity to get standing on her one good foot. After a few tense seconds, she was standing on one foot and swaying precariously, but at least she was standing.

Sam bit her lip and frowned as she looked around. On one hand, she should probably get back, because she had no idea how long she'd been out here really, and for all she knew it was like, 7:57 and Anna was impatiently tapping her foot while waiting for Sam to stop being an idiot and answer the door. Plus she probably didn't want to risk stepping on anything else, or getting an infection by rubbing a bunch of dirt in her cut.

Of course that was gonna happen even if she chose the other hand, which provided that she stuck around a little longer and checked out this stuff. Because really who wouldn't want to check this out? Maybe she'd find a mostly in-tact car to lord over her friends.

That thought brought a small smirk to her lips, and Sam decided Anna could use the opportunity to learn a little patience.

Slowly, Sam wobbled and began lowering her foot back onto the dirt. She winced almost as soon as she touched the ground, but bit her tongue and slowly applied weight to it. A sharp intake of air was followed by a scowl when she tried actually taking a step.

"I'm such a wuss...ow! Jeez, you'd think I'd be smarter than this and go home...Pens is gonna go mother hen on my ass. Anna is too. Oh jeez, and if one of them tells mom..." Despite her whining to thin air, Sam took another step forward, and then another. Her progress was slow going, but she slowly made her way through the debris, following the kind of trail it made. The silence of the half-desert she trekked through was too unsettling, so instead she filled it with more mindless rambling. For some reason, there was a feeling settling deep in gut that something wasn't quite right.

"This is like a minefield...jeez. I sure am saying jeez a lot tonight. Where's the stupid car all of this is from? Or, oh, what if it was a bus? Or truck? No! What if this is actually from a plane crash? Well, I guess if it's a plane crash I could call 911..." Her gaze was focused solely on the ground and her own jumbled mumbling. She gingerly stepped around debris and trash, wincing every time she applied pressure to her injury.

She didn't miss the spots of blood she left in the sand with every step, but she didn't feel necessarily concerned about them either. Of course she was bleeding; she had just _impaled _her foot with some kind of metal! She just didn't think it was too serious to worry about at that moment.

As she walked, and subsequently talked, the stuff began coming in bigger and bigger clumps, and it was getting harder and harder to walk through. Sam narrowed her eyes and continued to berate herself for her idiocy. Why was she doing this again? Oh yeah, because she was stupid. How could she forget?

"I better find this stupid whatever soon..." She grumbled. Her lighter rambling had devolved into mostly insulting herself and asking why she was doing this. See, she _knew _she shouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning. Now she was stuck out here trying not to step on glass and going on some idiotic "adventure" to figure out who left it here.

It was then that she finally noticed the trench that was about five feet in front of her.

Eyes wide and all traces of annoyance gone, Sam could only gawk at the large tracks gouged into the earth. She quickly hopped her way out of the debris and ran around the piles of sand and dirt, too excited to even think about her foot bothering her.

Soon she found herself in front of a large crater, and, getting down on her hands and knees to peer cautiously over the edge, she saw resting inside...

...absolutely nothing. Nothing! It was empty, but for more metal bits and other materials. Sam groaned and let her head drop.

"Ugh. You've gotta be kidding me! I waste all this time and hurt my stupid foot coming out here, and I find an _awesome _crater, and inside it, is _nothing?_" She wanted to bash her head in.

Before she could go about doing as much, though, a glint down in the middle of the crater caught her eye, and she raised her head again to look up.

"Okay...so it's not _entirely _empty." She murmured, eyed the glinting object below with interest. Before she could really think about what she was doing, she swung her legs around so that she was sitting on the edge, her sandy feet hanging out over open space. Looking down to make sure there was something for her to land on, she braced herself and shoved off of the cliff face.

Hitting the ledge below her with an _oof, _she stood up fully and made a few futile attempts of brushing the sand off of her person. Looking around again, she shuffled over to the left and found a good foothold. Pressing herself up against the wall, her hands latched onto any protrusions, and her foot searched blindly for the little spot she had found.

Slowly, Sam made her way down the slope and into the crater. She was continually cursing herself, the crater, whatever was in the crater, and just about anything else she could think of that might have caused her some form of discomfort. Her foot was throbbing, but she did her best to ignore that. She had already started this stupid thing; she was gonna _finish _it.

By now the sun was beginning to set, but Sam had stopped caring about that. She was too focused on what was still glinting so enticingly down in the crater.

Now that she had gotten far enough down, the ground began to level out under her feet, and she let go of the wall she had been clinging to for dear life the whole way down.

The inside of the depression, no, the _hole _in the earth was strewn with the biggest pieces of twisted metal she had ever seen. Chunks of it were half buried in the ground, sticking out at odd angles and a few even seemed to be smoking. Sam marveled at some of the pieces, which were bigger even than herself.

Slowly, she made her way towards the object in the center of the space, the one that caught her eye.

She stopped about a foot away, and got down on her hands and knees to look at it. Sam squinted at it, and lifted a hand to her face to shield herself from the harsh glare coming from the surface.

"What...what is it?" She breathed, her eyes widening as she got a look at it.

In front of Sam, lying innocently in the middle of a huge crash site in the middle of nowhere, was a little metal ball. Except...well, it was pretty obvious it wasn't a normal ball. And it wasn't all that _little, _either. It was probably about the size of a beach ball, was covered in lines and panels, had blinking lights, and some weird kind of hieroglyphics across a strip that ran through the center.

Sam shuffled forwards on her knees, and reached out a hand to touch it. Her fingers hovered centimeters away from the surface, and she narrowed her eyes.

The girl quickly shot forward and touched it, before snapping her arm back to hold against her chest as though she'd been bitten.

The sphere just sat there, looking for the world like a useless piece of crap, with some fancy symbols on it.

Sam snorted.

Now she reached to pick it up, and slowly rose to her feet again, the thing now resting securely between her hands.

"Well...what is this? Is it like, a puzzle or something? Will I get a prize if I open it up?" Her question seemed to be posed to the thing itself, and when it provided no answer, she held it up to her ear and shook it lightly. (That was another thing- why was it so light? Was it mostly air?) There was a slight rattling noise, and she grinned.

"Ha! There _is _a prize inside! Maybe I can bring it back to the house and Pens and Anna can help me figure it out-"She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening in horror.

She quickly tucked the thing under one arm while she began to frantically dig through her purse, her fingers fumbling through the crumpled papers, random pens, and various other items until they wrapped around her phone.

"Oh god! I'm such an idiot! They're gonna _kill _me!" The clock read 8:43, she had 19 missed calls, and about 27 text messages, from both Anna _and _Pens. "Shit shit _shit!_" She chanted as she called Pens. She didn't think much of the jet she heard flying overhead, too busy thinking up what she would need to include in her will, and how she might leave some clues to her death for her mother to follow.

The dial tone rang ominously through the speaker, and Sam winced when someone picked up. There was no sound on the other end, just a steady crackle of static. Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"Uhm...Pens?" More silence. This was bad. Oh no. she was gonna die. She was gonna be brutally murdered by her best friends, and there was nothing she could do about it. "Pens? I uh, heh, know you're probably pretty mad..." Still no response. "But uh, I can explain! Well, actually, I can't. Because this was a pretty stupid thing to do, and I pretty much knew that from the start, but...that's beside the point!" Why wasn't she saying anything?

Of course, Pens and Anna both could be pretty terrifying when they wanted to be, and the ominous silence when she was angry was nothing new, but normally she would have started telling her off by now! Or, at the very least, Anna would have stolen the phone. She tried again.

"Pens...? Hey, are you even...are you really that mad? I mean, I know you must be mad, because I was a jerk to leave you hanging like that-"

"_Beep. Beep. Beep." _

Sam jolted and moved her phone from her ear. Pens' face smiled back at her from the screen, but her friend's voice wasn't coming out of the device. She put it on speaker and what was previously believed background static one would hear on most phone calls became and overwhelming drone. Frowning, she ended the call and tossed her phone back into her bag, zipping it closed. She shifted the...thing back into both of her hands, and pondered on whether or not it had some kind of radiation on it, and if she would maybe die.

It was then, also, that the roaring of the jet she had previously ignored suddenly recaptured her attention. Mostly because what should have been a distant rumble long passed, was suddenly coming from all around her at once. Her eyes widened as her head shot up, just in time to see a huge black _blob_ blot out the sun.

Acting on instinct, Sam immediately hit the deck, throwing herself to the ground, along with the whatever she held. She practically wrapped herself around it and began screaming when it sounded like something _huge _was falling out of the sky, and the gut-churning screeches of metal on metal were practically on top of her.

The force of the impact created a shockwave that knocked her back more than just a few feet, ending her yelling when she hit the ground with a grunt. Shaking, she hugged the ball to her stomach and used her other hand to help her scrabble backwards in the dirt as fast as she could, feet kicking the loose sand wildly as they searched for some kind of purchase. Her eyes were glued on the huge metal foot that was a little too close to her for comfort.

Slowly, she followed the black and purple metal of the foot, to the leg, and then to the chest, and way, _way _up, she locked eyes with that of the head of the, well, giant, metal...person.

There was a deep chuckle as the thing looked at her, a nasty grin crossing whatever passed for its face. His blood red eyes seemed to look right through her and it made her skin crawl. Sam's mouth was doing an excellent impression of a fish out of water, and the teen found that she was incapable of anything but gawking. She couldn't have moved if she had wanted to! Or at least; that's what it felt like.

And then it _spoke_.

"Oh look! A little organic decided to come out of its hovel and play." When Sam made no noise, and just continued to stare, it only seemed to encourage it. It moved its hands to its hips, and laughed again. It was a harsh, grating noise and it sent chills down her spine. "How _cute! _Apparently you know a handsome mech when you see one huh? Speechless at my appearance! But then again, who wouldn't be?" Sam was a bundle of terrified, quaking flesh as the monster snickered at its own joke. Suddenly it bent down, bringing itself closer to her, and reached out with one purple-accented hand as if to _grab _her.

"Well if we're going to play some games, why don't you come over here, squishy? We'll have _lots _of fun, I'm sure."

Everything suddenly seemed sharp, and the girl snapped out of her terror-induced stupor. Gasping, she clambered to her feet, adrenaline suddenly filling her from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers as she began stumbling through the crash site, not caring about all of the little nicks and cuts she was getting as she ran for her life. She clutched the ball to her stomach with both arms, for some reason unable to just drop it. It seemed like a lifeline at the moment, something _solid _and _there _and _real _to remind her that this was really happening.

There was more laughter before a shadow fell over her, which was quickly followed by a feeling of nausea as she was lifted _off of the ground _and into the air, with as little effort as it might take one to lift a misplaced doll.

Sam didn't know whether or not she should scream or cry or just stare in horror at the face grinning at her. How was she supposed to react to a _giant robot of __**death **_grinning at her like she was a fresh piece of meat?

"What's the matter my little fleshy? Do you not like to play?" She wasn't sure if the shaking she felt was her own skin trying to leap off of her body or the rumbles from the robot just _talking. _The thing's voice was scratchy, and static-y, and she didn't like it.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" Red eyes narrowed as it suddenly honed in on her face, and whether the grip on her tightening was intentional or not as she was drawn close, only the monster knew. "Are you broken, then?" A rough shake that sent her head spinning. "Normally most squishies are screaming by now."

Her mouth opened of its own accord, probably planning to say something snarky or just completely idiotic in reply. But instead of something dumb or smart like maybe a _plea for her __**life,**_all that came out was a choked, sob like sound. She wasn't crying, but she sure as hell wanted to.

Now it bared it's teeth at her, apparently excited by this new development.

"Ah ha! See, I knew you weren't broken. Silly organic; you can't hide anything from me! I knew I wasn't imagining that screaming when I landed." It chuckled again, a clawed hand raising to partially cover its mouth in a rather human gesture.

Sam was too preoccupied with the vomit threatening to rise if the sudden shaking from his laughter didn't stop soon to notice this.

Its amusement ending, it looked her over again, a frown over its face. Suddenly, it began looking around the crater, trying to find something, or maybe just appreciating the scenery. With her still in its grip, it spun surprisingly carefully, keeping the arm that held her steady.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that the thing seemed to be familiar with humans in this situation, and took a moment to ponder if maybe it was being careful because it had been puked on before.

There was a growl, jolting her from her mildly humorous thoughts. Especially when it was accompanied by an increased pressure on her in the monster's grasp. The arms that were wrapped so securely around the metal ball, the arms that were now pinned against it, shrieked in pain with the feeling.

Her kidnapper glared at her as though she was the cause of cancer, and she had done it on purpose. The hand crushing her suddenly relaxed, and she was shifted until she found herself sitting in a cage of fingers, bum firmly planted on its metal palm. The glare moved from her to the object she still had snuggled in her arms.

"Human. Where was the sphere when you found it?" Sam blinked, her lungs still working overtime to get more air back in her system. The tight grip had made it hard to breath, and hard to think, and her mind was still too sluggish to register the question fully. The thing snarled, causing her to flinch and scoot back against the digits that, ironically, prevented her from falling off the edge.

"Tell me!" It roared. Sam's voice decided for her brain that it would be a good time to start working again.

"I-I-In the crater! In the crater!" she stuttered, practically yelling herself.

"And was there a pod around it? A shuttle? Anything?" Sam felt her brain rattling in her skull with the speed at which her head whipped side to side in the negative.

"N-N-No! It was just, it was just lying in the middle!" There was the sound of a few rapid clicks followed by what might have been two gears straining to move against each other in opposite directions from its mouth.

"Slag! 'Screamer will have my spark if the damn thing is broken!" One fist was clenched in frustration as it glared off into the space next to it, but then the red lights focused back in on her. The girl shivered against her will. "Well..." It mused grimly. "At the very least I could blame this little bug, and it least he wouldn't think _I _did it...but then the fragger would be mad at me for letting a pathetic _human _get to the weapon before I did! Slaggit, I just can't win!" A few more harsh noises, clicks, and the occasional whistle of air through a pipe was heard, as well as some distorted electronic sounds.

While it was distracted with making a symphony of industrial noises in its apparent anger, Sam took this opportunity to regain most of her senses and try to figure out if she would maybe survive this. Pushing whatever it had ranted about in English to the back of her mind, she flicked nervous glances between the thing's face and the edge of the metal she was on. The appendage had been lowered when the thing distracted itself with what something in the back of her mind told her it was a rant about how big of an idiot it was and how much trouble it was gonna be in.

For a moment she felt a surge of sympathy for the thing, and mentally murmured an _'I feel ya, buddy.' _Before snapping herself back into reality.

If giant angry robots counted as reality, which apparently, now they did.

Sam quickly shoved all of these random thoughts, along with the sense of familiarity that was just beginning to niggle at the back of her brain, out of the way so she could focus on the task at hand; _getting the hell off of this thing's hand._

As previously noted, she was closer to the ground than before, when she was being held eye level to the robot. She had no idea how she could judge the approximate distance in feet between her and the ground; the people on TV who estimated that something was such and such far away must have had superpowers or something.

She could tell, however, that it was too far away for her to jump without breaking about half of the bones in her body. It didn't help that the most athletic thing she did was probably walking Sweetie Pie every morning.

Regardless of the fact that her attempts were futile, Sam slowly scooted herself closer to the edge, moving with as little actual _movement _as possible.

She froze as there was a shifting of metal and the monster returned its attention to her mid escape-attempt.

Despite the sudden overwhelming terror that it had noticed her change in position, that didn't seem to be the case.

"Fleshling!" It said, commandingly. Angrily. With enough force to make the terror already coursing through her veins skyrocket to levels previously unimagined.

When it spoke to her at first, the tone had been teasing, and excited, as though it were a child who had just found a new toy. Then it was angry when it asked her about the ball that she was _still _clinging to like some kind of safety blanket. Angry, definitely angry; and scary enough to make her want to piss herself with fear.

But not the kind that had the threat of imminent death dripping from the words.

Like this one did.

"Give me the sphere. Now."

Sam didn't move. She couldn't move. She was too afraid to move. Deer in the headlights had a whole new meaning. It was more like teenager in the demonic-red-eye-lights of a blood thirsty giant robot that was probably going to kill said teenager. Deer were now childs play. Who needed deer? Certainly-not-Sam.

Apparently not in the mood for teenagers playing statue, or deer, as it were, the robot growled and decided that if she wasn't going hand the ball over, it would just _take _it instead.

Wickedly sharp claws darted forward and grasped the grooved metal, above and below where her arms covered the surface. With a sharp yank, the ball was free.

Or; it should have been.

Instead, poor, aggravated Skywarp now had his human _nuisance _screaming for dear life as she dangled dangerously in the air, her arms with a vice-like grip on the thing. This was turning out so much more frustrating that it should have been.

He had been given a simple mission; find the incoming weapon pod, remove the weapon before the autoidiots became aware of it, and if confronted with an autoboob, kick some aft before high-tailing it back to base.

Now he had a damaged weapon, which at some point he was pretty sure Starscream had screeched about being crucial to their efforts in destroying the Autobot forces on this miserable ball of dirt; a clingy, suddenly noisy human youngling, and what looked like at least one Autobot signature approaching.

Skywarp cursed and shook the little human parasite mercilessly, trying and failing to dislodge it from its hold on the weapon. If anything it only caused the screeching to get louder, and he barely resisted the urge to shut off his audio receptors to save him from the noise.

Normally he was all for the screeching of a terrified human, but when it was _this _close and had been going on for what must have been getting close to a slagging *_breem _and _that high pitched..._

Skywarp _knew_ he should never have even bothered ending his recharge cycle that morning. Let _Thundercracker _take the stupid missions. Pit, let fragging _Starscream _do his _own _slagging missions, instead of passing them off to his trine like he always did! What did Primus have against him?

Sam's throat burned considerably with all of the screaming and shrieking she was doing while the giant robot swung her around. She didn't really mind it, though.

If a burning throat, some scratches, and a few dents in her pride were all the injury she came out of this with, she would never complain about anything ever again.

At the moment, however, she was still being shaken around like some kind of rag doll, so the screaming continued and her eyes stayed glued firmly shut.

"Stupid fragging human! Let go already! Primus! What, did you fragging _weld _your little fleshy digits to the thing while I wasn't looking? LET GO!" Somehow deciphering words from the angry growling above, then beside, then in front of her; Sam managed a defiant shake of her head, though it was hardly discernible from the thrashing her body was already suffering.

"NO!" Also squeezed its way past her vocal cords, just as high and grating as the screaming that resumed immediately afterwards.

The robot, thoroughly fed up and mostly just _done _with _everything_, finally relented in his shaking to try and pry the little thing off with his fingertips. (Why hadn't he done that in the first place?)

Gripping the girl around the waist between his thumb and fore finger, or what passed for the equivalent, he began to pull her away from the sphere, moving the sphere in the opposite direction as well.

Instead of the pressure on her insides _inhibiting _her ability to make pain-inducing sounds, they in fact _increased _in volume with Skywarp's efforts. What was _wrong _with this human?

"Fragging little glitch!" He shouted. "Let go before I rip your arms off!"

It was like the magic switch had been flipped. She suddenly let go of the ball, the screaming stopped, and a deeply frightened human female was abruptly stone-still in the two-fingered grip.

For a moment, there was silence.

And in the next moment, it was gone. Because the police cruiser that had been cautiously sneaking up behind the distracted Decepticon Seeker was replaced with the Autobot second in command and Tactical Advisor Prowl, his cannon blast inches away from the back of the unsuspecting target before he knew what had just fried his circuits.

Then several things were happening at once.

Skywarp immediately dropped what he was holding, in surprise, pain, and a need to retaliate.

The sphere fell slowly through the air, forgotten in the sudden heat of battle.

Sam felt a sudden weightlessness as the grip on her midsection disappeared, and her eyes widened in dawning horror as she realized that with nothing holding her, and nothing to hold on_to_, she was going to hit the ground with an unforgiving _splat._

The Autobot Prowl, true to his faction's morals, ignored the furious Decepticon Warrior in favor of jumping for the delicate human that had somehow been caught up in this mess. He transformed mid-leap, shifting around the girl as their paths crossed in the air, and hitting the dirt with a dull _thunk _of his tires_._

Sam was left in a daze in the front seat of a police cruiser, blinking the stars out of her vision.

Behind her and her rescuer, a flood of military jeeps approached the fuming Skywarp, along with an only mildly out of place Datsun.

Skywarp, noticing that he was thoroughly outnumbered and that his possible bargaining chip was most definitely _gone,_ honed in on the orb lying forlornly on the ground. Quickly grabbing the item and subspacing it for safety, he stepped, jumped, transformed, and warped away from the flurry of bullets and plasma blasts.

The Datsun-turned-robot cursed in his native tongue at the purple haze left in the Seeker's wake, but soon let his aggravation drop in favor of transforming again to catch up with his commanding officer and former Guardian.

The human soldiers shared in their own frustrations, before retreating in their vehicles to do something probably military like.

Sam finally remembered to breath.

Blinking rapidly, the teenager whipped around in her seat, her breaths coming in short gasps and deep intakes as she struggled to make sense of where she was. Hadn't she just been falling through the air? Wasn't there a giant robot somewhere?

There was a minute tightening of the seatbelt around her, and with surprising gentleness she was coerced back into her seat.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could manage and held the seatbelt in both hands in a death grip. What had just happened? _What the __**hell **__had just happened? _Was she insane? Did she get arrested for some reason? Did somebody shoot her up with drugs without her knowledge? That's why she was riding in a police car, right?

A police car that was driving itself only god knew where, with _her _inside! Sam opened her eyes.

"W-W-Where-" Sam coughed, and took a moment to hack into her fist. Her throat, oh how it _hurt _from all the _screaming _she did. "W-What-" She wheezed, "What the H-Hell just happened?"

She was looking all around the cab again, and finding no one there but her. Her hand shot to the handle of its own accord, jiggling it frantically for a few moments before returning to its place on the seat belt.

Sam hunched up in the seat, tucking her knees in and making herself as small as possible. She stared silently out of the windshield, watching the scrubby bushes and sand go by. It was dark out now, and her mind instantly latched onto what sane thoughts it could.

Her sleepover was dead. If Pens and Anna had been waiting for her before, they were definitely gone now. And probably murderous.

Anna had sounded so excited, too. Heck, she had been super excited herself! The first chance to hang out with her best buddies in weeks, and she blew it. Totally blew it. Sky high.

Not to mention how high her phone bill was gonna be this month with all those texts and missed calls. Her mom was gonna be furious-

Suddenly aware of how much of an idiot she was, Sam jerked into motion and practically ripped the zipper off of her bag in her haste to get it open. Yanking her phone out, she immediately went to _dial _and was about to tap the numbers for her mom's emergency cell, Anna, Pens, _anyone, _maybe see if she could ask an operator for the FBI or better yet the President – the President would know what to do with giant robots, right? – when she was stopped in her tracks.

"Please don't." A disembodied voice said. Sam's finger hovered over the keypad and her breath hitched in her throat. "Trying to call anyone would be pointless. The signal is being blocked and I'd prefer it if I wasn't forced to remove the device from your possession." Sam gulped. Looking behind her, and to her right, her gaze wandered around the vehicle in search of a source. But there was none.

"W-Where are you?" she squeaked.

"I am currently in my alternate mode, the police cruiser you are sitting in. Panicking would be pointless as well; you've already met something much more frightening than a talking car this evening, and myself and my compatriots hold no ill will for you." Sam's gaze lurched to the radio, and she forced herself to take a steadying breath. Breathing slowly, she decided to think.

For some reason the..._talking car's _logic calmed her down a bit more. It was right, too; she was pretty sure she had had enough terror and panicking today for an entire life time. It _said _it didn't want to hurt her, and while she had no reason to really _believe _that, it was better than what the robot had said.

Slowly, she put her phone back in her purse again, her eyes never leaving the stereo system. She wasn't _trusting _the talking car, oh no, that was definitely _not _what she was doing. She was just deciding to stop freaking out like a total wuss and crying and screaming like a baby, and instead start calming down and taking things in stride.

Talking car? She could handle that. Totally. Because, really; hadn't she just done pretty well for almost dying a couple of times in the clutches of a giant, menacing, black and purple robot with vanity issues?

A talking car was a cakewalk.

Sam nodded and allowed herself to relax slightly.

"Okay...okay." She murmured, experimentally. Could she talk without her voice squeaking like a terrified kitten? (Though of course it would still croak hideously due to the abuse of her vocal cords) Would her questions be answered, anyway? Well, she wouldn't know unless she tried. "Where...where are we, uhm, going?" there was a pause.

"I am taking you to a secure location where you will be asked a few questions, and required to sign some paperwork. Other things will also be explained. You will be requested to provide a written statement of your encounter with the being that held you." Sam nodded slightly. So, kind of like a police investigation? She could deal with that. She had seen those kinds of things on TV, it seemed easy enough.

"You will also be seen to by a medical professional for any injuries you have sustained, before the questioning. When you enter the building you will be blind folded, as a precaution. Do you understand?" Sam nodded again. Okay. This was all pretty standard, right? Had to be cautious when dealing with talking cars and giant, insane robots, right?

They had to make sure she wouldn't keel over while they were questioning her. And now that she thought about it, her arms were tender and her legs were stinging with the tiny cuts she received from the stuff buried in the crater. None of it hurt more than her foot had earlier, so she decided she was doing pretty well.

Her stomach was a little sore too, but she could live with it. The half-monotone voice of the car was calming her down, making things seem more normal. He was telling her what to expect in the same way one might comment about the weather, and it was doing wonders on her still slightly panicked mind. This was...this was okay.

She was okay.

Okay.

Breath.

A new inquiry bubbled up, and she hesitantly voiced it.

"Will...will I be going home, soon? And, will my mom have to pay for, uh, medical fees? I...uh, I don't know anything about our insurance..." She waited for the voice to respond. It took a little while, and for a moment she wondered if she was going to be answered at all.

"You will be released as soon as the questioning process is completed, and escorted home by an officer of the military. There will be no cost for the medical treatment." Sam blinked.

"Oh. Okay." Deciding the conversation to be effectively finished, since she had no more questions to ask, and since the car didn't seem to be the talkative sort, she lapsed into a semi-comfortable silence.

Her mind was blank, mostly, content to just sit and be, instead of worrying or panicking or wondering.

The she groaned to herself and dragged both hands across her face in irritation. She felt like crying.

"I _knew _I shouldn't have gotten out of the _fucking _bed today."

Her automotive companion made no audible comment, but to himself, Prowl couldn't help but agree.

* * *

_*Breem – A breem is a term commonly found in the fandom, though we are uncertain whether it is just that; a fandom created term or something canon. It refers to a unit of time for cybertronians, approximately 8.3 minutes. If anyone has any questions regarding terms that we use and are not explained at the end of each chapter, please defer to the PM inbox of Mein Benutzername. Much thanks._

_Note: This turned out several pages longer than part 1. We are overjoyed by this, though! We aren't completely satisfied with the final turnout of this chapter, so any advice, and especially any criticism, is welcome._

_Work on the next chapter, and perhaps even completion of said chapter, will have already begun by the time this is released to the public. Soon, there will be an in-depth explanation of the precise setting for this fic, as it has, admittedly, become somewhat AU. (Somewhat multi-verse, as well.) It contains elements from various continuities, and hopefully you readers, and Sam, too, will have __**all of your **__questions answered in chapters to come._

_Thanks much, and please come again._


	4. Terror's Special Kind of Hangover

Dear Karma

A Transformers Story

_Co-written by MeinBenutzername and A Humble Reader_

_Beta and Advisor: sacrificialHarmony_

_Note: Finally, some headway. As seen in the last chapter, it looks like the Transformers have decided to make an appearance. Now, the plan isn't to spoil any of the upcoming chapter in the Author's notes, so I'll leave it at restating what we all already know._

_Thanks again to all of the reviewers, favorites, and follows._

_Please enjoy the story, and leave a review if you deem us worthy._

Words:8356

Pages:25

Chapter 2

* * *

Terror's Special Kind of Hangover

_In which the time simply flies while having fun, and one is left sprawled on the floor with only a headache and a vague notion of how they got there._

* * *

Sam sat, or rather, _slumped, _in the uncomfortable metal chair she had been requested (told) to sit in about an hour earlier. She was tired and annoyed, and so _bored. _When they drew close to where ever it was the talking police car was taking her, the windows had tinted themselves to almost black.

Sam would admit that for a moment she freaked out, and might have started hyperventilating a bit, but she quickly reassured herself when she remembered the whole secrecy thing that was gonna go down. She was gonna be blind-folded when she got out of the car, wouldn't it make sense that she didn't see everything through the windows first? It would make a blind-fold kind of pointless.

After maybe another half-hour of driving, (or maybe it was only fifteen minutes, who knew?) with nothing to look at but black windows and a pretty clean car interior, and only silence to keep her company, the car had stopped. By that time she was sitting normally with her bag resting in her lap, mulling over whether or not to strike up another conversation.

She jumped when the seatbelt unbuckled itself and she found herself none-too-gently removed from the vehicle by several pairs of strong hands. A blind-fold, one of those plastic ones that allowed no room for peeking, was almost immediately put over her eyes and she could only assume somebody had grabbed her bag where it fell on the ground.

No words were spoken, she was instead gripped by both arms and led into a building, where they spent what _felt_ like another half hour walking (unfortunate considering the state of her feet), until they led her into a room instead of another hall.

Inside she was returned her sight, and promptly sat on one of those little table-cushion things like at the doctor's office. It even had that crinkly wax paper or whatever they put on it.

A doctor whose name she didn't catch set to work asking her where it hurt and bandaging her up, applying disinfectant and what-not. She thought it was funny that in what seemed to be a military installment they had the silly cartoon Band-Aids instead of plain tan ones.

Like she suspected, miraculously the worst of injuries was the gouge in her foot from when she had stepped on that shard of robo-stuff. (At least she now assumed it was robo-stuff. Would she get robot aids now? She certainly hoped not.) There were a few bits of glass stuck elsewhere, and she was covered in more bruises than she cared to count, but according to her doctor she probably wasn't feeling the full extent of the pain because she was suffering mild shock, and there was probably still adrenaline pumping through her systems.

At the time she just felt that sense of un-real-ness to everything, tinged with fear. Now she just felt annoyed. And ready to snark it out with Pens. Or the officer that came in to question her. Or maybe just hit something.

The Doc had given her painkillers and she did manage to get out a "Thanks, Doc!" with a decidedly Bugs Bunny tone to it, (if you ignored the crack in her voice) but she had been silent on the way to where she was now; the plain gray, probable interrogation-room, where she was bored out of her mind.

This was so horrible. Mostly recovered from her close encounter of the robot kind, mentally anyway, she felt ready to explode. She wanted to go home, call her stupid friends and tell them whatever bull she would be ordered to about what happened, order a pizza and eat some of those snacks, take a long, hot shower and then throw herself into bed. Or maybe just throw herself into bed. Cuddle with Bunnykins for a bit.

She also just wanted to be able to marvel with someone that hey, _giant robots!_ Was this for real? (And why did that seem so dang _familiar?_)

But alas; she _couldn't _do either of those things because the powers that be decided they wanted to make her sit her in this freaking _uncomfortable _metal _torture device, _alone, and wait until they decided to stop dithering around with their heads up their asses and come and _question her!_

Okay, so maybe she was a little more than annoyed.

Groaning, she slowly righted herself on the chair. Scooting closer to what was a probably equally as uncomfortable metal table, she slumped the upper half of her body over that. Crossing her arms beneath her chin, she gazed absently at the wall in front of her.

Something was bothering her, something that wasn't the apparent incompetence of whoever dealt with witnesses to giant robots. (Again, part of her was still reeling from the sudden shift her perspective of reality took.)

And something seemed really familiar. (Apparently it was gonna plague her until she figured it out, because she _couldn't stop thinking about it._) Not _déjà vu_, or anything, but like she _knew _this. God, she knew this. It was like that one formula she just _knew _but for the life of her couldn't remember on her test. She had seen it a thousand times, what was it? C equals...B minus...no, that wasn't...

Sam groaned and moved her face into her arms, squeezing her eyes shut in aggravation. Now instead of remembering whatever was so damn familiar about _something, _she was thinking of math formulas.

God damn it.

Finally drawn from within the tornado of her thoughts, (so many random, useless, fearful thoughts) Sam looked up when there was a loud clang in front of her.

No longer alone, a man in a crisp black suit and some fancy shmancy shoes walked to the other side of the table. He dropped a folder on the surface in front of her, then a clipboard, a pen, and a recorder of some kind beside himself, before sitting down as well. Then he put his cute little briefcase on the floor by his chair leg.

Feeling petulant, Sam didn't shift in her position and instead remained with her arms on the table and her back end hanging off the edge of the chair that was rather far away from said table. She just stared at him blankly. Knowing that her gaze was well renowned amongst friends and family alike to be nothing short of unnerving, (even if they had grown immune) she wondered if she could manage to creep him out as revenge for making her wait.

The man just brought his hands to rest on the table, clasping them together slowly. He cleared his throat.

"I am going to be asking you some questions about what happened this evening. I want you to answer truthfully and to the best of your ability. Do you understand?" He met her stare with one of his own, seemingly unbothered.

Well, maybe she could just annoy him then. At least a little bit. She wanted out of here already.

"Do I need a lawyer? My mom told me not to say anything until I got a lawyer. If this is an interrogation then I think my mom should probably be called off of her business trip, and I probably need a lawyer. I did mention that right? Lawyers. And when can I get a bathroom break? A girl's gotta go sometime. And, you know, isn't this technically kidnapping? Huh." The man didn't react to her rambling questions. Not even an eye twitch. Damn.

"You do not need a lawyer. You are not in trouble, and this isn't an investigation. Your mother has been informed that you were in a minor vehicular accident and will be returning home as soon as you are released from the hospital. She has been convinced that you are fine and not to leave her business trip early. You are not a victim of a kidnapping, Miss Johnson. This is all perfectly legal and actually, standard procedure." Sam resisted the frown that wanted to stick on her face. They had lied to her mom? A car accident? Wait, how did they know who her mom was? But more importantly...

"But what about the bathroom break? I drank a lot of water today, you see. I-"

"I'm sure you can find it within your self-control to hold it, Samantha." He gave her a small, snarky smile before returning his face to an unreadable slate of nothingness and boorish government goon training.

The man leaned forward, looking very serious and making Sam uncomfortable. She scooted the chair a little closer to the table, and shifted in her arms a tiny bit.

"Samantha. What you witnessed is a matter of National Security, and top secret. I need you to cooperate and answer my questions. Without this little attitude display. Do you understand? This is a very serious matter, and not just some kind of game. I'm sure you're aware of the fact that could have very well died if our team had not reached your location in time." Sam hesitated for a moment, allowing the words to sink it.

He was right, and she didn't want to think about it, because that made it so much more real. Now that it was done and over with, she had been feeling a sort of relief. It was all so surreal in the aftermath. She had almost died? Pshaw, no biggie.

As long as she didn't think about the details (the devil's in the details) she would be okay.

Looked like her reality check wasn't going to bounce after all.

"Yeah, okay." Sam averted her gaze and instead stared at the wall just past this man's right shoulder, to her left. What an interesting piece of architecture. Certainly not as unpleasant as the harsh look on his face at the moment.

The man leaned back again, and unclasped his hands. He turned on the recorder and pulled the file towards himself. Opening it, he flipped a few pages and organized something before speaking again.

"Please state you full name, first middle and last, and your date of birth." Sam shifted again before replying.

"I...my name is Samantha Hope Johnson. I was born April 1st, 1997." He nodded, still looking over his papers. She wondered if that was 'her file' or something. Or maybe it was just his list of standard just-met-giant-robot-traumatize-ee questions.

"Good. Now, what are you parents' names?" Sam frowned.

Katherine Diane Johnson. I uh, don't know my Dad's name." He looked up now, questioning with his eyebrows alone. Sam scowled, partially at herself, and partially at him for making her elaborate. "Mom didn't talk about it after he left when I was little. I never asked. She never told." The man nodded and picked up the pen to scribble something on the clipboard.

"Alright. Do you have any siblings?"

"No."

"Relatives?"

"My Grandma and Grandpa. We don't see them much, only once or twice a year, really. I don't think I have any cousins, but I could be wrong. If I do, I haven't met them."

"Pets?"

"A Golden Retriver. She's four."

"And how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"And how old is you mother?"

"Thirty-eight." The man nodded and scribbled some more things down on his clipboard. For a while there was nothing but the scritching on his paper. She stared at him, but her thoughts drifted briefly back to that familiarity.

He seemed to finish, and ripped the paper off of the clipboard. He put it in the folder, and pushed the folder aside. Bringing the clipboard in front of him, he finally looked up at her again.

"Alright, Samantha. Can you tell me what you were doing out in the desert where our men found you in the clutches of a level 7 threat Mech?" Sam blinked and finally shifted herself closer to the table, sitting up more. She rested her chin in her hand, and narrowed her eyes.

"Well, okay, assuming the threat thingy was the robot that _attacked _me, I had gotten bored at home. So I grabbed a bag of mostly eaten Doritos and decided to go for a walk out behind my house." The man quirked an eyebrow at her incredulously. He seemed to like doing that. The whole eyebrow quirk thing. Luckily she was able to respond in kind.

"You went for a walk? According to my report here," He said, pulling something out of the folder again to look at it. So it _was _'her file'. Neat. "you were found almost three and a half miles away from your place of residence. That was a walk?"

Internally, Sam balked. Had she really walked that far? Bejeezuz, she didn't think she had walked that far. She could barely do the mile run at school P.E. Then again, that was a run, and this was a walk...

"I guess." She said. "It's not like I kept track of exactly how many steps away from home I was. I just started walking and eating and then I stepped on a piece of metal or something, and I realized there was this huge trail of debris." Sam shrugged. "I followed it and found that crater. And then the monster-robot found me." He looked like he didn't really believe her.

_Well then screw you, good sir._ Wasn't he supposed to be like, a little sympathetic, or something? Stupid luck. Of course she got the emotionless butt holes.

"Alright...so, you followed this trail, and found the crater, with the robot inside." Sam cut him off.

"That's not what I said. The robot wasn't in the crater." The man frowned and began tapping the pen against the table.

"Then where was the robot?" He asked, looking over something in the folder again, flipping the page occasionally. Sam almost felt offended at his tone, as though he were talking to a first grader or something. She was at the very _least _second grade material.

Butt. Hole.

"Well, if you would let me _explain _before rudely _assuming _things..." She grumbled. He narrowed his eyes and gave her a look. Looks like her promise of no attitude wasn't holding very well. She was _tired, _cut her some slack. Jeesh.

You'd think these people had never heard of something called a _coping mechanism_ before.

"I went down into the crater and looked around a bit. In the middle there was this..." Sam was sitting up fully now, and held her hand in front of her, forming a vaguely round shape. (So much for not thinking about the details...)

Maybe if she just thought of it as a story. Just a bedtime nightmare.

"...this, ball thing, I guess. It was about this big-" She gestured with her hands. "-about the size of a beach ball, maybe a bit bigger. It had some weird symbol-y stuff on it, not much. And there was a strip around the middle? And lots of lines. Kinda like a jig-saw puzzle or something." Sam's irritation with the man was quickly forgotten as she herself pondered the thing. What was it?

"It wasn't very heavy. Like, it wasn't filled with air, or anything, but it was pretty light, really easy to hold. And when I shook it, I think I heard something inside rattle-"

"You shook it?" the man interrupted, apparently surprised. Why wouldn't she shake it? She said as much.

"Well, _yeah, _I shook it. I mean, it looked like a puzzle or something, so I thought maybe there was a prize inside, or something. And I was right! Well, maybe. At the very least there was _something _inside of it..." He continued to look at her a little strangely.

"It didn't cross your mind that it might have been dangerous? An explosive of some kind?" Now it was Sam's turn for the strange looks. Whoopee.

"No. It looked harmless enough. It was just a _ball, _for goodness' sake. It was pretty interesting." The man shook his head but was apparently satisfied. The teen was suddenly struck with the mental image of him shaking his head and grumbling about "teenagers" under his breath. She wondered if he had kids.

He gestured for her to continue, and she complied.

"Well, anyway, there was definitely something in it, but I didn't get to find out what. Because suddenly there was this really loud roaring above me." Here came the hard part. Just a story...

"I thought I had heard a jet or plane or something fly over earlier, and I don't know if it was the robot or, well, an actual jet, but I just kinda hit the deck when it was practically _on top of me._" She was story-telling with vigor now, moving her hands around to accompany her words as she spoke.

She could do this. Ignore the terror building in your chest, girl. You can do this.

"For some reason I was still holding the ball, orb, sphere, whatever you wanna call it. When I looked up it was staring at me and I can't really remember what it said..." Sam frowned, her arms slowly lowering until they found their way back to her lap again. "Something about coming out to play...and squishy...little human, organic..." She trailed off and lapsed into silence.

After what was probably more than a few moments, the man cleared his throat, effectively removing her from her haze. (What had she been doing again?)

"And then...?" He questioned. Sam started, jumping in her seat a little. It caused a loud screech as the legs of the chair moved across the floor. Trying not to flinch, (or stutter) she quickly gathered her wits and continued.

"O-Oh. Well, I tried to run away, and it grabbed me right as I got to the edge...and I don't really remember, but I think it talked to me about something for a while. I think it made a lot of clicking and electronic-y noises, too." Just a story. Remember the noises? No, just a story.

"I tried to see if maybe I could get off the edge of its hand, but it was really far down. And then it stopped talking or whatever, and told me to give it the 'sphere', I think it said. And I didn't? I was still holding it for some reason. So it got mad, and then..." Sam trailed off uncertainly. What had happened after that? What did she remember? (No, what was the next part of the story?)

"I...well, I think...I remember it, the, the robot being mad, because I wouldn't let go, and then..." What was next? What was next? _What had happened next? _

"Then there was...I was sitting...the talking police car. There was the police car, and it talked to me, and told me what was going to happen. It was really calming, actually." Why did he need to know that? He didn't. Sam felt so confused. Her face probably showed as much, too.

"It was really monotone. And just, level headed I guess. And it calmed me down a lot, except that part when it first started talking when I was about to use my phone; that freaked me out a lot. Like, really bad." Rambling. She was rambling. Get to the point, Sammy. (Sammy-mammy; was that what mommy had said?)

"Any...anyway, that's all- that's all I remember. Yeah. That's what happened." She gave herself a firm mental shake, and maybe a physical one too- she wasn't really sure anymore. The terror was suddenly back full force, and she resisted the urge to stand up and run to the corner so she could hide. (She wanted her mommy to hug her so bad- call her Sammy-mammy and a big baby and tell her to stop shaking because it was over, and all just a bad dream, with Sweetie Pie in her lap and some hot chocolate in her hands, so maybe she would stop shivering and it would be okay again.)

So much for story-telling and coping mechanisms.

Mr. no-name government worker seemed to be looking at her with at least a small hint of concern now, though Sam didn't fully register it at the time. Otherwise she might have felt offended that it took him so damn long.

He rubbed the side of his face and seemed frustrated, maybe even worried, by something.

"Well." He said, giving her a look, and causing her gaze to snap back to him from where it had drifted. "You're absolutely sure that's what happened? What he was after? The ball?" Sam took a moment to listen to his words, let their simplicity sink in, and then nodded. The man blew out a tired puff of air and let his hand flop down to his side. (His voice wasn't as calming, like the car's. Oh god, she was going insane, wasn't she? To think a monotone AI remote controlled car's computerized voice was soothing.)

Apparently he had been scribbling during story time too, because he ripped another piece of paper from the clipboard, this one with significantly more scribbles, and slipped that one into her folder as well.

"Alright, Miss Johnson. This may seem exhausting, but I need you to write down, in as much detail as possible, the story you just told me. We would also appreciate it if you gave us every detail possible about that sphere, ball; whatever you want to call it- that you found in the crater. When you've finished with that, another man will be in here with something for you to eat. After that there are some forms you need to sign, some things to be explained, and some instructions for you to follow, and then you'll probably be home free." Sam frowned.

"Probably?" She asked. (There wasn't a quiver in her voice.) The man stood, straightening his things and adjusting his tie and spinning the clipboard and pen to her across the cold gray table. He picked up the recorder and slipped it into his pocket and picked up his briefcase with the folder. She ignored the sympathetic look he sent her way.

"Yes. Probably. This isn't a situation we encounter often, I'm afraid. I'm not sure how it will be handled by my superiors. I'm sorry." He stuck out one hand for her to shake. For a moment, she regarded it like it was poison, and then slowly brought hers up to meet it. (Her hand wasn't shaking a little- surely that was her imagination. The sedatives-pills-whatevers- were supposed to stop that. Right?) "Thank you for your time, Sam."

She just nodded and watched as he walked out the door.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't as bad as she originally thought. They couldn't blame her for being cautious. (And scared.)

Sighing, she cast a weary glance to the items on the table. Grumbling again, she pulled it the rest of the way towards her and began writing furiously. The sooner she got this done the sooner she got food, apparently. Since her stomach was about to eat itself with hunger, (or maybe the butterflies were the lingering signs of her panic) this sounded like a good idea.

(And the sooner she was done with this 'report' the sooner she could forget _everything_.)

* * *

(Approximately) Half an hour, one sore hand, and two pages filled front-and-back with microscopic Sam-writing later, the teenager found herself staring at a couple of oven-cooked chicken fingers, a suspicious lump of what she presumed to be mashed potatoes, and an innocent pile of corn. They had even given her a little chocolate milk carton. It had one of those really bad jokes on the back and everything.

How cute.

Personally, she felt she deserved a little more than these meager winnings for her trials. After all, she _did _include a poorly drawn re-creation of the ball she found in her 'report.' That warranted at least some MacDonald's, right? The questionable quality of her meal was at least expected with MacDonald's food-stuffs.

Now officially deemed recovered from what she supposed was a mild panic attack when she was telling Mr. Suit about what had happened, she debated on whether or not to complain about the current state of affairs. (It didn't matter to her that she had been the one to deem herself recovered; it wasn't like there was anybody else there to do it for her, or anyone else who realized she was relapsing, or whatever, anyway.)

The empty feeling in her stomach winning out over her compulsion to complain and generally be a nuisance, she mentally shrugged and picked up her fork to start with the corn, which currently looked the most edible.

Half-way through her meal, she wondered if the guard at the door with his hands over his crotch in standard Military stick-up-the-ass fashion was going to stare at her the whole time. She bet he was probably fascinated with her ability to eat what was surely recycled trash. Or maybe he was just waiting to snatch the plate from her as soon as she was done. Buzzard.

The door opened then, embarrassingly right as she had decided to let her chicken finger hang half out of her mouth while she opened the milk carton. She may or may not have been testing for a reaction from the guard.

Wondering if her face resembled a tomato yet, she quickly ripped the offending foodstuffs out of her mouth and swallowed what was left without hardly chewing it at all. She coughed a bit, choking slightly, and then calmly resumed opening her milk carton after the lump of un-chewed meat was all the way down.

The new man in a stiff black suit (not the same one, this one was distinctly older, judging by the gleam on his shiny mostly-bald head) gave a small little smile before closing the door behind the guard as he left, and took a seat. She kept herself from speaking as he organized his (thick) stack of papers by drinking her milk with as much normalcy as she could muster, and watching him from the corner of her eye. She was slouched casually in her seat, limbs splayed about in typical teenager style.

Done straightening his things, he clasped his hands in front of him and waited patiently for her to stop pretending that she hadn't drained her milk carton almost as soon as the spout had touched her lips.

Deciding to comply, _for now,_ she gave up the act and put the carton back on the table. She rested her elbow on the back of the metal hunk of evil posing as a chair, and met his gaze evenly.

He smiled warmly.

"Sam. May I call you Sam? My name is Paul Blakemore. You can call me Paul. That way we'll be even." Sam nodded, hesitantly. Agent-Government-Man Paul smiled again.

"Good. Well, Sam. My job is pretty simple. I'm here to make the rest of this as easy as possible, for the both of us, so that we can both get on with our lives." Another winning smile. She guessed this was okay. She really did want to get home.

"Alright." She said, not looking away from him for a few moments. "What's with the stack of fancy looking documents?" Paul sighed a bit and shuffled some of the papers off the top of the stack, straightening them again as soon as they were separated.

"That, unfortunately, is the bad part about my job. This may take a while."

God damn it.

* * *

Luckily Paul was good at his job, and really did do his best to make it easy. At least someone was going to cut her some slack today.

Basically, it was several hours' worth of non-disclosure agreement after non-disclosure agreement. He was really vague on a lot of things, and a lot of the time was also spent with her re-hashing exactly what she knew about these robots; which in her opinion, was didley squat.

All she really knew was that _'Hey, giant robots exist and the government apparently doesn't want this to be common knowledge!' _He kept asking what she knew about their construction and behavior and a bunch of other stuff, to which she had no clue. He also asked about the ball a lot too; what it looked like, did it make any noises, did you see anything strange happen, did it appear to shift at all- what kind of a question was that, anyway?

He told her as well, that at the end of everything, all of the official papers and the repeating questions, the bare necessities of the situation would be explained. The need-to-knows that would hopefully satisfy her curiosity and answer the questions that had been piling up with every vague reference Paul made to the 'government secrets.'

Of course, all that stuff would come after and only after she was sworn to secrecy and bound by too many contracts to count.

It was also hinted that she wouldn't be allowed to leave until everything was said and done, too.

So, Sam was a prisoner of sorts. She guessed she didn't really mind all that much. Paul was really doing his best to help her, and had a healthy sense of humor to deal with the sarcasm constantly rolling off of her tongue. And her grumpiness.

Now, normally, Sam would utterly deny any claims of her being a 'grumpy, stuffy, pouty spoil-sport with anger management issues and a stick up her ass,' as Anna had so lovingly deemed her early on in their friendship. Right now, she would still deny stuffy, pouty spoil-sport with anger management issues, (so what if she punched Anna on the shoulder with a little more force than necessary sometimes?) but she was fully accepting of the 'grumpy' part. Maybe she did have a stick up her ass right now.

Because at that point in time, if you looked up the definition of the word grumpy, all you would be greeted with was a picture of her beautiful scowling face.

She wasn't blaming Paul, in any of this, of course. She actually thought he was really nice and was ever thankful for his willingness to put up with her.

Because she could barely handle putting up with herself. It was a wonder how this man was doing it. He deserved a medal when this was over. Maybe she'd give him a hug or something. Ew, no, never mind. Where had that come from? She hated hugs.

Sam had decided that instead of blindly signing every scrap of paper beside the x on the dotted line, she was going to at the very least skim _every last one _of these thrice damned contracts.

Boy, was she regretting it.

Sam thought maybe even Paul's endless patience might be wearing thin, too.

"Alright," Paul said, preparing to go over one of the final papers in the stack, for perhaps the fifth time. They had been on this one for a while, and thus far it was the one she disagreed with the most vehemently. Truthfully, she had understood the reasoning behind most of the other documents.

But this just wasn't sitting well with her. At all.

Or maybe she was just at her breaking point and decidedly done with being compliant.

Paul started in on her again.

"This is an outline, that we've both already read, _several times,_ that details what you're going to have to tell your friends and family when you return home. You get that, Sam, I _know _you get that. I don't understand why you're so hung up on this." Sam, currently wearing the title of _Grouchiest Person on the Planet,_ sat with her feet propped up on the table and her arms crossed over her stomach. One hand was holding the document in question rigid for her to glare at. Paul just had his palms splayed out across the paper-littered table as though pleading with her to please please _please _shut up and sign the document already.

"I don't like it. I understand the need for secrecy, but this? Are you serious? Not only does it sound ridiculous, improbable actually, but apparently you _already totaled our truck _to make it believable? Like, what the Hell? How's insurance gonna pay for that? Also, what gave these guys the god damn right? I loved that truck! It had this really nice smell to it any everything! I have _memories _in that hunking piece of junk! Excuse me, _had!_" Paul sighed and resisted the urge to rub at his temples.

She was being difficult and she knew it, and he knew it, and she knew he knew it, but that didn't seem to matter to her at all. All that seemed to matter right now was whining.

"Sam, you already had warning earlier when you were first questioned. I believe you were told that your mother had been informed you were in a car wreck? You didn't have any problems then, did you?" Sam threw her hands up in the air in angry, righteous, teenage fury.

"But when that happened I was confused and probably still suffering from the shock of giant robots and talking cars! Or, better yet, drugs! I was on painkillers or _something!_ This isn't fair! I'm gonna be in so much trouble when I get home! Not only does this make _me_ look like an unsafe driver and irresponsible in general, _which I'm not, _but now it's gonna be on my record forever!" Sam knew she was being stupid and maybe a little bit petty, and self-centered, but she didn't care.

"I can't believe this! I just...you're not even giving me a choice!"

In truth, Sam really _did _grasp the gravity of the situation she had somehow landed herself in. Personally, she thought she was doing an excellent job of grasping. As a matter of fact, she was pretty sure that nobody had _nothin' _on grasping things compared to her.

It was just the sudden lack of control with everything. Her world was thrown for a loop, alright. She's mostly recovered from that. She can't tell anybody about it unless they're government approved; understandable, thanks to her amazing grasping capabilities. Lots of frustrating loops to jump through and subtle threats to take heed of, she's even handling that pretty well.

But then they just said 'Here's the story, we already set everything up, have fun trying to explain this one, sucker.'

Sam released a long-suffering sigh and allowed her head to loll back, bringing the much hated document to cover her face with a moan.

She needed sleep. She might even need coffee.

It was at this moment that she realized things were getting desperate, taking a turn for the worse. If she thought she needed coffee, something she had sworn off long ago, there was definitely something wrong. Time to stop being a brat, then.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll just go home and lie to everyone and be looked upon as a delinquent for the rest of my life. People will look at me in the yearbooks and say 'Look! It's that girl that totaled her car when she drove it into a building!' Or something like that."

Among the responses Sam expected to hear, a light chuckle was not one of them.

"Sam, maybe you haven't been reading the outline as thoroughly as I thought. The crash that was staged wasn't your fault at all. As the story goes; you went on a walk, then out to pick something up from the store, and were T-boned at the intersection on the passenger side by a drunk driver. You got out of the crash with very little injury sustained, and after a brief stay in the hospital, returned home." Sam just groaned and moved her feet off the table, opting instead to shove the paper at Paul and smoosh her face into her arms where she laid them next on the table.

"I don't even care anymore. Whatever. I'm fine with the stupid story. I know what to do. Let me sign the fricking paper and let's go over the rest so that I can go home." Paul chuckled again and slid the sheet and pen into her arms. Removing her face from her cocoon, she quickly found where x marked the spot, and left a microscopic signature in poor cursive, just as she had done for the other fifty papers.

"Okay." She moaned. "What's next." Paul smiled at her.

"That's it!" He said, clapping his hands together once as though celebrating the end of a great event. Or hours of torture. Whatever floats your boat.

"That's it?" she asked, perking up a little. No more papers to sign?

"That's it." He said, his grin wide. "Here comes the fun part." Sam snorted.

"Fun part? Excuse me, but did you just say _fun part?_ There's a 'fun part' in all of this?" Paul nodded happily, gathering up the mess they had created when Sam felt the sudden urge to be responsible and learn about what she was actually going to be signing. Wow, had that gone wrong.

With all of his supplies collected, he stood up from the table, with a disbelieving Sam left to stare at him suspiciously.

"You're serious?" she questioned again. "Excuse my French; but you really aren't shitting me right now? This is a _legitimate _claim?" Paul just grinned.

"Oh, bringing out the big guns, are we? Think maybe if you use bigger words you'll catch me in my lie?" Sam leveled him with a sufficiently questioning look while he mocked her.

"Perhaps." She said vaguely. Paul chuckled, and Sam smiled a bit.

"Alright then, come and 'perhaps' yourself into the hall with me. I'll explain while we walk, and this way you can stretch some feeling back into your limbs and stop whining about that chair." Sam was all smiles as she leapt up, having to keep herself from full out sprinting to the door ahead of him.

Oh her poor, abused _buttocks. _Finally. She was _free._

"Alright," Paul said to her, holding open the door with his briefcase held to his chest. "You know the drill. Ladies first." Sam stepped out of the room and he came right behind her, and the two fell into a comfortable stride. Sam just followed his lead, turning where he turning, and glad that her foot only felt a little sore at the moment, instead of throbbing or anything.

"Alright Sam, the jig is up; time for those secrets you've been waiting for."

"Oh, goodie!"

"Haha, yes, goodie. Now, I don't want you to think I'm crazy or anything, but have you ever seen the movie trilogy The Transformers? Or maybe the old cartoon?" Sam stopped dead in her tracks.

All the little wheels in her head stopped spinning, the gears ground to a halt, and the lights flickered in warning.

"You mean...with like, the really good CG and Optimus Prime and Shia LaBeouf and all that? I've...I've seen those. What does that have to do with anything?" Paul stopped walking and turned to face her. He had one hand in his pocket and was sending her a sympathetic looking smile, which she decided she really didn't like.

"Well, it's good that you've at least seen the movies, that will give us a little bit to work with." Sam hesitated and chose her next words carefully. Or debated on whether not she should even go along with the little joke he seemed to be playing on her.

"Well...I've seen the, uh G1? Yeah, All of season one and half of season 2 of the G1 cartoons with my friends, but I don't..." Sam trailed off uncertainly. Just what was he getting at? Slowly, the gears jerked themselves back into motion and she began to think.

"Do you mean to say," Sam began warily, "That the government, or multiple governments, since apparently they attack people, made...giant, transforming robots to mimic a _70's cartoon?_" Paul gave a short, shallow laugh and shook his head in the negative.

"That's probably the most logical reasoning I've heard some people come up with, but no, that's not it." He gestured for her to continue walking with him again, and ever so painfully slowly, Sam managed to get her legs in working order. Mostly.

"Then what _is _it, exactly?" Paul gave her a half-glance and another smile.

"Well, I can't tell you _everything, _but this little accident has granted you clearance to know the basics."

"Around the late 70's, early 80's, the exact timing isn't specific, is when the first of the transformers accurate merchandise came out."

"Accurate?" Same questioned. Paul shushed her.

"Yes. Before that I believe there was some experimenting with *'Gobots' something or other- but that's beside the point. You see, about three years prior to that, when the transformers toy line and shows first came out, the Autobots really did land here on good ole' planet earth."

"I don't have top _top _clearance myself, but I know the story. I kind of have to, since part of my job is explaining all of this to civilians who become unintentionally involved- like yourself."

"So, the Autobots made contact with the American government. America was the superpower, after all. The free nation; the most logical choice. It took time, a lot of adjusting, and several football fields worth of red tape, but eventually it was decided that this was something to be shared with all of the governments of the world."

"By that point close to a year had passed. As expected, when the Autobots were finally revealed to the rest of planet earth, there was an initial uproar; lots of blame games played for a while."

"But the fact remained that there was a very real threat approaching, and even the unhappy, power hungry politicians involved had to recognize that. The Autobots managed to reach earth before any Decepticons, as far as they knew. In fact, it was believed that the Decepticons didn't even know about our planet. Yet, anyway. It was unanimously decided, once the other governments were done pouting at America for hoarding their secrets, that the public was not to know of the alien presence on our planet."

"At this point we are approximately halfway into year two with the very small number of Autobots among us. Nothing concrete was set up; the scouts sent here to make contact were shuttled from top secret base to top secret base, a new branch of military to work with the bots was only just hitting the drawing board, and there was an increasingly alarming amount of accidental sightings that perhaps weren't all benign in origin."

"They had to find a way to keep people from realizing the truth, and, so what is to this day probably the most insane idea anyone had ever heard of, was proposed. They would pull a fast one over the whole planet."

It took her a moment, because Sam was waiting for Paul to continue, but she soon realized he was looking to her for a reaction. Picking her jaw up off the floor, she blinked to clear her head.

"They...they decided to...make a toy line and a cartoon?" Paul grinned and nodded. They kept walking.

"Precisely. There's a quote from someone, I think. It's along the lines of 'The best trick the Devil ever played was convincing the world he didn't exist.' That's exactly what was decided they were going to do."

"One person was selected for the job. They knew the truth, all of it, and were given a very detailed set of instructions. This person was to go out and find someone who could make this work. A company, an aspiring artist, a toy making franchise; something to jumpstart the process."

"They would come forward with this brilliant idea of giant alien robots, fighting an eons long civil war." Paul grinned.

"It's funny, really. To keep the world from learning the truth, they were told the truth in such a way that no one would ever believe it was real." Sam silently found herself agreeing.

"The names of actual Autobots and Decepticons were used. Appearances were as close a match as they could get without outright handing the artists and designers a picture of Optimus Prime and saying 'Here you go, make this a child-friendly television icon.'"

"Ironically, the most information that's true, or the closest to being accurate anyway, is in the G1 series. Once Hasbro and their associations had their hands on the idea, the characters, and the premise, the governments let them run wild. Multiple continuities, alternate universes, variations on appearance; the whole shebang."

"There are elements of truth in almost every version of the transformers, of course. The names, the war. Decepticons were purposefully portrayed as a horrible evil, with an occasional possibility for redemption here and there, but mostly just plain bad. Autobots were the Earth's allies, through and through."

"Sensitive information on the pasts of certain figureheads and leaders, such as Megatron and Optimus Prime, were vaguely outlined by our inside guy, and expanded upon by the company. By the end of year three, testing with gobots was done and they moved on with their plan."

"In hindsight, it was realized that they might have played all of this a bit more strategically, with less truth and more fabrication, but there was no turning back now."

"Decades passed. More Autobots arrived on the planet, but with them came Decepticon scouts, and finally the earth was fully realized by our common enemy as a target that could change the war."

"With Decepticon sightings becoming more and more common, and it becoming harder and harder to explain them away, the movies were brought into existence. The purpose of the films was to let people who witnessed such things think it was some kind of stunt. Even if they weren't truly satisfied, it was a way to make everything make sense again. Just another act from those big brains down in Hollywood."

"The movies allowed no room for conspiracy theorists to worm their way out of their holes and begin to guess at the truth. The truth that was actually in front of everyone the whole time."

They had reached some kind of exit door, and Paul was standing in front of her, watching her expectantly. For a while she just stood and stared back at him.

_This was the fun part, huh._

Sam let out a dry, humorless laugh, and ran one hand through her hair. Absently she noted that it was turning into a bush again, and she realized she had probably looked like crap through this entire experience. For some reason, she found it didn't bother her that much.

"I guess this elaborate 'truth in plain sight' thing also makes anyone who tries to break the contract look crazy, huh?" She asked him. Paul gave her that sympathetic smile again. Guess she knew why he felt sorry for her now. Nearly get killed and have all of that dumped on you...what 'fun' indeed.

Paul shrugged.

"If you want to think about it that way." He looked to an officer, one of two who were guarding the door they were standing in front of, and he came forward with something that Sam recognized in his hands.

"My bag!" she said. Paul chuckled and took it from the solider, handing it back to her.

"Sorry about that. We had to search your belongings for any disguised cybertronians, or anything suspicious. You'll be glad to know you're clean." He winked at her then, and a sly smile slid onto his face.

"That's a pretty cute Valentines card you have there by the way. It must have been given to you by someone very special." Sam just scowled at him to hide the red creeping up her cheeks and slipped her purse into its familiar spot over her shoulder blades.

"Ha ha, very funny. You're hysterical." She grouched. Internally she was dying. Oh god. He had _seen _that. She only hoped that maybe his not top top clearance would keep him from telling a certain giant alien robot. And God, was it weird to think about that being _real. _

She would need a few weeks to recover from this one.

Another realization smacking her in the face, the color that had previously colored her cheeks a healthy pink, now drained and set her looking white as snow.

"Oh god- does that mean- the talking police car was- and- I was _inside _and- oh my god." Paul grinned at her again and slapped one arm over her shoulders in a very friendly fashion.

"Yup!" He chirped. "It sure does. Now, it looks like it's time for you to head out, with those splendid thoughts kept in mind. You'll have to be blindfolded again, for most of the trip. Is that alright with you? And you know your story?" Sam nodded and frowned.

"Yeah I got it. Down pat." She spun herself towards him and stuck out a hand awkwardly. "Nice to meet you...?" Paul grinned and shook her hand vigorously, giving her a good pat on the back for good measure.

"Good meeting you too, Sam. You're a nice kid. Stay out of trouble, you hear?" Sam allowed a tiny smile to slip out.

"I don't know, have you seen my luck? The most I can promise is to try." Paul laughed and gave her a friendly squeeze before releasing her to go and be blindfolded and finally head home. Before he left her to it, he gave a little mock salute, which she returned with as much sarcasm poured into the action as she could muster.

"You do that, Sam. Have a nice life kid." And with those parting words, the man who somehow became her friend over hours of endless paperwork and impossible things, was gone.

Sam was blindfolded and lead to a car, and she began her journey home. Back to a world of normal things, she thought. But, she reminded herself, now with a new knowledge of things impossible, lurking, in the shadows beyond them.

She could already feel the headache forming from the things to come, _oh, _the things to come.

* * *

_Note: Ah, at last. Hopefully this didn't move too fast for you, even if it certainly left Sam in the dust. Suddenly everything she knew is just a little bit different, and she's left to sort it out on her own._

_*Gobots – We're not entirely clear, but the Gobots seemed to be the precursor, or predecessor, to the Transformers. Since we wanted to make this as realistic as possible, they were included in this great big conspiracy. (We are pretty sure that at some point they were considered an alternate universe of the Transformers.) The timing may be a little off, but we hope it's within you all to forgive us. Any further inquiry can probably be answered by a quick Wikipedia search._

_This chapter was particularly enjoyable for the both of us to write, as Benu got to do some experimentation with the effects of shock, and I got to spend hours with her typing up the explanation for this twisted multiverse we've concocted. At first we were unsure of whether or not it should be explained so quickly; toying with the idea of leaving you as much in the dark as Sam was very appealing for a time. However, it would make sense that Sam would be shuffled in and out of the government's hands as quickly as possible, so we're left with a confused grump of a teenager, and some explaining to be had in the next chapter._

_Ironically this was completed the night Chapter 1 Part 2 was published, which was unintentional by all means. However, it is keeping us with the plan to stay one chapter ahead at-all-times._

_We appreciate, highly, highly appreciate, the reviews, favorites, and follows we have received for our writing efforts._

_We hope you enjoyed._

_Thanks much, and pleas come again._


	5. Moving Forward

Dear Karma

A Transformers Story

_Co-written by Mein Benutzername and A Humble Reader_

_Beta and Advisor: icanhascamaro_

_Note: Hello again. After an unfortunately long period of an startling inability to write anything together that even resembles something acceptable to the plot, we have managed to scrape together the next chapter for our lovely readers._

_Also, a warm thank you (and hello) to icanhascamaro, who did an absolutely magnificent job of beta-reading and editing for us. It is most appreciated! And though I haven't spoken to her myself as of yet, she seems positively delightful_

_Please enjoy the story, and leave a review if you deem us worthy._

Words: 5410

Pages: 17

* * *

Chapter 3

Moving Forward

_In which the show must go on, despite revelations, and one can only hope that ominous sense of foreboding is just the drugs._

* * *

_Knock knock knock._

Under a cocoon of various blankets and quilts in the middle of the Johnson living room, something shifted imperceptibly.

_Knock knock knock._

This very same something shifted again, and released a small groan. It stilled, and the silence from before the annoying, repetitive noise began returned.

_...Knock knock knock!_

There was another groan, and slowly, layers of comfort were peeled away from one end of the lump, and the top of a messy head appeared. Sleepy, green eyes opened to slits glaring daggers at the tent above them.

_...Knock knock, Knock-knock knock, knock knock-_

"_Oh my God! I can't take this anymore! Sam if you don't open up your door right now, and I mean RIGHT NOW, I'm using Pens as a battering ram and coming in there to get you!"_

There it was. Was it sad that she was expecting this? Soon to follow would be the headache, and then thoughts of manslaughter. Damn. She wanted to sleep.

"_Excuse you? I didn't exactly agree to these terms. How about I just shove you into the door instead, little miss impatient?"_

"_I'm the impatient one? Who was just knocking out a beat on the door every couple of minutes?"_

"_I was being polite."_

"_You're just as impatient as I am, you overstuffed bag of pretentious-"_

"_My my, when did we learn such big words?"_

"_Why you little-!" _Sam couldn't take it anymore. She released a huge groan but the argument ensuing just outside her front door continued regardless. Well, she'd have to put an end to that.

"Just _shut up!_" She croaked angrily. That was supposed to be a violent _shout, _damn it._ "_Can't a person _sleep in_!? You guys are so annoying! And _loud!_" With a flourish that might have been something more of an awkward flailing, accompanied by another rather frustrated grunt, Sam disentangled herself from the covers and made to stand. She winced at the sudden pain that lanced through her foot and her stomach, but still managed to hobble her way onto unsteady legs.

Unfortunately, the memory of what had happened was still fresh in her mind, and she wasn't even allowed the simple luxury of being able to pretend, maybe for a moment, that she didn't almost die and then find about what might have been the hugest conspiracy theory _ever._

She wondered where she had put the small bottle of pills the military doctor person had given her. Were they still in her pocket? And would they make her loopy? That'd be nice. Better than sorting out this jumbled mess of questions with no answers in sight.

Sam was grumbling to herself incoherently and wondering about those pills some more when she opened the door, one hand rubbing at her eyes to try and remove the after-goop of a sleep that, in her opinion, wasn't long enough.

Two brunettes stood over her, one looming dangerously with a kind of worried and angry fire in her eyes, and the other looking maybe a little annoyed, but it was clearly smothered by her concern.

Concern that became violently evident when she immediately gasped and attached herself to an unsuspecting Sam. The fire in her companion's eyes dimmed a little and she let her glare slip, stepping in behind the first and closing the door behind her.

Suddenly Sam was wide awake.

"Sam!" Anna practically cried. "Oh my god! I heard about the wreck! Are you alright? Oh my god! You could have _died _Sam! You're never allowed to drive again okay? Never! I-I can take you anywhere you need to go, but you aren't allowed to- why didn't you call us!? I was so worried! And when we got here, and you weren't here- I didn't know! But now I do! And- and-"

"_ANNA!_" Sam roared, somehow managing to pry her friend off of her. There was a strain in her voice. Oh, the sudden _agony _in her skull. "Slow down! Stop!" Sam held the frantic girl at arm's length with her hands on her shoulders, with a slight wince at the pounding in her skull. Sam hated headaches. She took a deep breath and gave both of her friends a steady, withering look.

"Listen to me. Look at me, I'm fine-"

"But that's just it." The second girl said, cutting her off. "You _aren't _fine, Sam. You cannot seriously stand here and tell us that you are all 'fine and dandy' after you got out of a _car wreck. _No way we're buying that complete and utter bullshit, and especially not from you."

Anna nodded in agreement, hands coming up to grasp the ones that were resting on her own shoulders.

"Now then." Anna said, suddenly all business. Sam sighed. She had been dreading this moment. "You are going to _sit down,_ take whatever medicine they better have god damn given you for the pain, and Pens and I will make you some lunch."

Sam opened her mouth to protest.

"And _then,_" Penelope continued, causing Sam to snap her mouth shut. "We're going to sit down, and call your mother, and we are all gonna talk about what the _hell _happened, _exactly._"

The injured teen groaned and allowed her head to loll backwards in defeat. "Please, no, I thought you were here to worry, not _torture me-_" Sam's whining was abruptly cut short when she was unbalanced by arms wrapping around her neck and shoulders.

"_Idiot."_ Penelope snapped harshly. "We are worrying, you little piece of shit." Now it was her turn to hold Sam at arm's length while she glared. "Sit your lousy car-wrecking _butt _down in the kitchen while I cook, and Anna keeps you on lockdown." With a little turn and then a gentle shove, Sam found herself slumping her way miserably down the hall and into the kitchen.

She loved her friends, she really did. In fact, she was amazed by how much they worried over her every time something stupid happened and she managed to get hurt. (Being plowed over by a few wrestling guys at school had sent her to the hospital on multiple occasions. Why did they always feel the need to get violent when she was standing near them, anyway?)

While Sam absolutely adored them and worried just as much when one of them got hurt, however less often that was than when it happened to her, she dreaded what came along with that touching concern over her wellbeing.

That thing being violent over-protectiveness developed over many years of multiple injuries inflicted onto her being by way of stupidity. A certain degree of anger over being such an idiot too, for good measure.

So, Sam was guided gently into the kitchen, one of her best friends in the whole wide _world _grabbed a chair for her from the living room where they still sat forlornly, and sat her down at the table. She immediately requested a glass of water and began to dig around in her pockets and purse for the pills she knew she received at some point. Eventually finding them and subsequently noticing the water that had been sitting in front of her for the past five minutes, not to mention the Anna hovering behind her nervously, she popped two of the pills and washed them down with some cool, soothing, H2O.

Sam watched with mounting dread as Anna finally left her post behind her injured person and began dragging the rest of the chairs in from the living room and back to the kitchen.

Once she was done, she took a seat across from her at the table. Only a few short minutes later, some uncomfortable staring included, a steaming bowl of Chicken and Stars soup was put in front of her. Pens walked around the table and sat down beside Anna.

Sam stared down her friends a few moments longer, before shifting her glare to the soup. She wanted to make a nasty comment about how she was recovering from a car crash (except not), not a cold. But her resolve to do so slowly withered the longer she gazed into the golden depths of the broth.

Damn them for knowing how much she loved this soup.

Sighing with a certain air of resignation, she picked up the spoon also offered to her and scooped up some liquid heavenly deliciousness. Blowing on it delicately, she popped the spoon into her mouth and closed her eyes in satisfaction with a happy hum.

One eye cracked open at the sound of a small _thump _on the table.

Now in place of her bowl of soup, lay the house phone.

Damn. So that was their game. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen this coming. Penelope always was a bit of an extortionist. And maybe a sadist. But that was just her opinion.

"Call your mom, and then you'll get to finish your soup," Pen said smugly. Anna just remained frowning at her. "Until you've called her and told her everything is alright and that the really _doesn't _need to mess up whatever she's doing because she's so worried about you, you will sit at this table and weep silently while we enjoy warm, delicious, Chicken and Stars soup in front of you." Her face a stoic mask, the girl nodded to her partner in crime.

Anna returned the nod and held up a can of aforementioned soup.

"It's the last can, too." She intoned. "So you either call her now or let the soup get cold and then eaten. Or maybe we'll just pour it down the drain." The girl shrugged, smirking lightly.

Meanwhile Sam just gaped. They would do _what _to her soup?

"No." she said slowly. "Don't even- don't even joke about that. It's not funny." She looked to Penelope as the brunette shook her head.

"Not joking, Sam. Pick up the phone."

Sam looked incredulously between the two girls. They had to be joking right? Unfortunately for Sam, her disbelieving look was met with identical masks of determination. Shifting the shock on her features to something a little more common, a frown and a glare, she picked up the phone and began to dial without even looking at the number pad.

"I won't forget this, traitors." She muttered bitterly. "Threatening precious soup just so that I'd call my mom. This is the ultimate betrayal. Well, not the ultimate, but still pretty up there."

Anna just smiled at her and Pens allowed a small smirk to flash across her lips.

The dial tone buzzed in her ear.

Three rings and then-

"_Sam? Sammy? Are you alright? Oh, god- they called me at the hospital, said you were in a car accident! I was so worried, my baby girl- You're alright, aren't you? Do I need to come home? Oh, sweetie! I'm so sorry! What happened? What was it-"_

"Mom!" Sam interrupted, wincing. Oh man, she should have done this sooner. She hated it when they were right. And now she was feeling all guilty for not calling, and for not wanting to call. No no no, she didn't want to do the whole guilt-tripping thing right now! Augh.

"Mom! It's okay! I-I'm fine! Really!"

The older woman made a distressed noise on the other end and Sam winced again. Pens and Anna were leaning forward slightly, doing their best to listen in. Sam didn't notice.

"_Samantha, my poor baby! They called me late last night, said the truck was totaled- what happened?"_

Sam bit her lip nervously, shooting a glance up to her friends. Suddenly she was wondering if she could really do this.

Wait, of course she could do this! She had the whole car ride to freak out again and finally get a grip on herself. She was _done _crying. Well, at the very least she wasn't gonna do it here, and now.

"Mom, it's okay. I'm okay. Really, I am."

There was a sigh of relief on the other end._ "But the hospital-" _her mom said, _"You had been checked into the hospital!" _

Sam leaned forward and shifted the phone from her right hand to her left. She began rubbing her temple and rested her elbow on the table. "Yeah- well- I _might _have stepped on a piece of broken glass or something getting out of the car, and I have some other tiny cuts, and some bruises on my stomach, but it's nothing, really!" Damn, listing it out like that made it sound like a lot.

"They gave me some pain medicine and I hardly feel anything," she assured her mother. "just a little sore. They got the glass out, and I think I got out of the hospital sometime around like...three a.m. I had to wait a while in the ER, since my injuries weren't very bad." Sam stopped rubbing her temple and looked up at Anna and Penelope, twirling some hair around her finger. "Mom? You still there?"

"_...I'm here, sweetheart. But I have a question for you..." _

Sam stopped twirling her hair around her fingers, her mind blanching. _Here it comes. Oh God, I'm not ready to die yet-_

"_What the HELL do you think you were doing!? Driving around willy nilly that late at night!? I should ground you for a month! Five months! A whole YEAR!" _

Sam winced and pulled the offending device away from her ear. In front of her Pens was snickering behind her hand, but Anna was beside her mouthing the word "idiot" and not even attempting to hide her amusement.

Sam spared a moment to scowl in her direction, mouthing "You're dead" at her venomously before suddenly turning back to the phone a pile of pleading mush. "Mom! It wasn't that late when I left! Besides, the accident wasn't even actually my fault, and-"

"_Not your fault!? Are you really going to do this, Samantha? 'No mom, it's not MY fault I was irresponsible!' Then whose was it? The monkeys that flew in front of the car and distracted you, right?" _

Sam groaned and introduced her forehead to the table. Why did this have to be so painful? "No, Mom, I'm serious! It's not like that! The light was green! The idiot who _T-boned my car-"_

"_Oh, so now it's _your_ car, is it? Well, if it's _your_ car I guess you can pay for what insurance doesn't cover."_

Sam began contemplating whether or not it was worth it to repeatedly bash her head against the table. Right now, it was looking pretty tempting.

"_Mom! _Could you please just _listen _for a moment! Besides, you _know _that's not fair!" There was a tired sigh on the other end of the line. God, the woman sounded so _exhausted. _

"_Alright, alright, Sam, I'm sorry...just...explain what happened." _

Releasing a sigh of her own, Sam launched into the explanation that Paul had drilled into her head throughout the hours of sketchy contracts and non-disclosure agreement forms that she had suffered through.

When she was done regaling her tale, she could practically see her mother rubbing her temple in frustration, or worry, or maybe both.

Sam sent a furtive glance towards the two traitors sitting across from her at the table. Anna, for the moment, was texting someone, but Pens was listing with rapt attention, even though she was trying to hide it. Sam could tell though; she was staring at some stain on the tablecloth with withering intensity and fiddling with her hair with one hand. It was how Sam knew that Pens was either thinking about something serious or struggling with her math again.

A crackling came from the receiver as her mom shifted.

"_Alright sweetheart. I understand, it wasn't your fault. Well, I wish that you had been maybe a bit more aware, even if you weren't in the wrong on this one."_

"Only this one?"

There was a small chuckle.

"_Oh hush, you. As I was saying, I get it. I'm just glad you're okay. And you're sure the pain isn't too bad?" _

Sam nodded, even though the woman on the other end couldn't see it. "Yeah. The most I've had is a headache and some soreness, but I took some meds for that. Since I'm not loopy or anything, I'll assume it isn't that strong. So, I'm fine. They didn't even have to give me the strong stuff."

"_Alright. I have to go now. Are Anna and Penelope there with you?" _

Sam looked at her friends again. "Yeah, they are. Why? Was this planned from the start? Have I been tricked?"

"_Stop being such a drama queen! Listen, I talked to their parents, they'll be staying with you until I get home. I'll be a little late, I've got to go and hash it out with the insurance company. You relax, alright?"_

"Okay. Thanks, mommy. I love you."

"_Love you too, Sammy-mammy. Bye."_

"Bye." With that, Sam held the phone in front of her and clicked the off button. She sighed, _again, _and ran a hand through her hair. Ew. It was all greasy and nasty. God, she needed a _shower._

"So what's the verdict?" Anna asked, tapping on the table top impatiently. "Life in prison or the death sentence?"

Sam reached for the bowl of cold soup. At this point, she really didn't care; she just needed something to fill her stomach. "I've been let off the hook, for now, anyway. Live to die another day, it seems."

Penelope nodded and Anna grinned. Sam shoveled some of the soup into her mouth before her taste buds could protest the lack of heat.

"So you guys are staying today, huh?" She asked in-between mouthfuls. Anna nodded enthusiastically and Penelope shrugged. Sam grinned and then lifted the bowl of soup to her lips. She gulped what was left down and sighed happily, using the back of her arm to wipe her face.

"That's awesome. Because I happen to have a living room full of snacks complete with tent and pillows, and I bet there are some movies just _begging _to be watched."

Anna squealed and made a mad dash for the TV, going straight for Netflix and The Transformers series.

To be honest, Sam wasn't sure how she felt about watching that. She mentally shrugged it off and told herself she'd have to deal with it eventually. Even if she did shiver a bit.

So the three spent the day munching on yummies and watching really corny TV shows from the 80s. Needless to say they had a blast. It was several hours later that her mother got home, but when she did it induced the long-over-due tear filled reunion everyone had been subconsciously expecting. After all of the drama that they could handle for one night was good and done, Anna and Penelope took the chance to make their escape.

When Sam nervously brought up the matter of _insurance _and _how the hell was it gonna cover all of this _when the older woman suddenly started glowing and sipping her hot chocolate with renewed happiness.

"It turns out it's not a problem!" Sam's mom was practically purring and quite frankly it was freaking the poor girl out. "The guy that hit your car? He's a rich international businessman and he was intensely embarrassed and horrified by what happened. The man actually came in while I was there, asking if it was possible to pay for the damage done to another's car." Katharine giggled. _She giggled._

"Mom." Sam began, a frown plastered across her face. "Are you alright?" She waved one hand near her face. "Did someone sneak into the house and like, spike your drink or something? Should I call the cops? I'm sure they'll be happy to see me again." The woman just giggled and swatted her concerned daughter's hand away.

"Don't get sassy with me. So, I had a lovely time with the gentleman- "

"Gentleman?"

"Hush. Anyway, he just paid for the whole thing! In fact-" insert another giggle here, "-he, he took me out and we bought a brand new car!" Sam gaped.

"He- you- _what?" _

Her mom just started giggling some more and left her to look like a fish out of water. "You're so dramatic! He was just being courteous, is all."

Sam could _not_ believe this. _Had _her mother been drugged. It wasn't like her mom was a genius or anything, but she certainly wasn't _stupid! _What the hell happened? How could she not see what was so suspicious about some dude coming up and not only paying for all the damages out of the kindness of their heart, but then _buying a whole new ca-_

Oh. Wait.

_Buying a whole new car to replace the one she never crashed._

Duh. Thinking about it after realizing that it was not an anomaly of human nature, just the government trying very _very _hard to cover its tracks, she wouldn't be surprised if her mother _had _been drugged.

Sam snorted. She covered her face. Before long she was laughing like a mad-man and her mother was the one wearing the disapproving frown. Sam actually had to set down her mug of hot chocolate to keep from spilling it. Sweetie came up and licked her arms during her temporary break in sanity.

"What are you laughing at, hm?"

Sam wheezed as she tried to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. It wasn't like she could tell her mom she thought it was hilarious that the government might have either a) drugged her, or b), found the most charming dude in existence to keep her from getting suspicious of what _really _happened.

"The-The idea of you-" She giggled some more "-going out on a _date." _

Katharine went almost immediately scarlet and plopped herself down in one of the arm chairs while Sam continued to die on the couch. "Oh hush. I don't need my daughter laughing at _me _for going out to _buy her a new car _with an admittedly handsome foreigner when said _daughter _has yet to go on one date."

Sam's laughing stopped abruptly.

"Shuddup."

A sly smile crinkled the corners of Katharine's lips.

"Ah, hit a sore spot, then?"

Sam didn't answer but instead tossed a pillow half-heartedly at her in response.

Soon enough they were both laughing together and the night continued on in normalcy that to Sam felt too good to be true.

Two weeks later and Sam had fallen back into her normal routine. That's to say, doing absolutely nothing of importance and only occasionally leaving the house when necessary.

She was loving it.

Truthfully, Sam had found her wits about her only a few days after the incident. It felt surreal, almost like it never even happened. That didn't mean she wasn't going to relax for a while. And maybe not go near police cars anymore. (Every time she saw one she wondered if maybe it was_ that _police car and wanted to throw up a little.)

And okay, so, _maybe_ she now possessed a somewhat irrational fear of planes and was practically a bundle of nerves anytime she heard one go over head, but considering what had happened, she felt she deserved a little bit of room for crazy things like that.

Despite trying really hard not too, she also couldn't stop thinking about her "encounter" with the big black and purple one. So maybe it felt like it never really happened; it still _did _though.

After the first week of blatant denial and a lot of twitching whenever Anna went off on a rant about how absolutely _wonderful _and totally _amazing _and _great _and _perfect _all of the Transformers were, she cracked. She asked Anna if any of the bad guys ("Decepticons!") were purple and black and turned into a plane or something. ("Oh my god, you're talking about SEEKERS! AH! I LOVE THE SEEKERS!") She was then _thoroughly educated _on the Elite Trine and their ranks and personalities, and, most importantly, their names.

Now, she wasn't _totally_ sure, but she was _pretty certain _that the...robot she "encountered" was indeed part of the Elite Trine and yes, it was Skywarp.

Which means she was actually kind of lucky.

After her crash course on the three Decepticons Fliers (as they were apparently often times referred to as), she felt positively _blessed _with the knowledge that it could have gone a _whole __**lot **__worse._

Starscream would've done much the same as his (Brother? Underling? Friend? Nuisance?) trine mate and made some comments on weak, puny humans and how great and handsome he was, (She was recalling more as time went on. Woe to her and her excellent memory.) before squishing her mercilessly and having a good laugh about it.

Thundercracker? She didn't even want to _think _about _God Damn __**Thundercracker.**_ Mostly because all of her thoughts began with a sneer of disgust and ended with her being almost immediately dead.

She also wanted to know who the Hell thought it would be smart to make this a friendly child's cartoon with lessons about morals and laser weapons that never killed anyone.

Well, maybe she was being unfair. Apparently, according to her sources at least, (coughcoughAnnacough) the comic books were much more graphic and had some pretty serious shit go down. Especially with the bot that _apparently _was her _Namesake._

Now _that _really made Sam want to throw up. She had been _nicknamed _after a psychotic, murdering, insane, _bright sunshine yellow _robot? Who was also somehow a _twin?_

It was here that Sam stopped trying to find out more about this stuff. She really wasn't sure she could take any more.

She especially wasn't sure if she could ever stand to find out which one that police car was- that had just been embarrassing. Telling those government guys that his(?) monotone and matter-of-fact-ness was calming? No wait, didn't she say _soothing?_

Would someone please shoot her in the _face?_

So, Sam supposed earlier thoughts of loving this "off time" of hers was more lie than truth. She was enjoying not having to do anything, but her _brain _was slowly and steadily pushing her closer and closer to just flat out_shooting herself _because she _could not stop __**thinking.**_

So, two weeks later Sam was on the couch, bemoaning her inability to keep her thoughts still, and channel surfing lazily.

Suddenly, a new train of thought was thrust upon her, and she paused, Actually, she even stopped breathing for a few moments. (the channel conveniently landed on an Episode of Transformers Prime as if to mock her.)

She had spent all of the last two weeks thinking and thinking and thinking about those _stupid _transformers.

But...just what the hell was that thing she found in the crater?

Oh god. She was gonna be stuck on this for another two weeks.

God _damn it._

"Auuuuuuugh. I hate. _Everything._"

_Knock! Knock! Knock- SLAM!_

Sam jolted as somebody slammed her front door open.

"Sunny~! I dragged Pens and Olivia over to watch Season Twooooo!"

"Honey, we're home."

"Hey Sunn- uh, I mean, Sam. Anna said if I didn't come then uh, Megatron would shoot me? Or something like that. Anyway, she said something about snacks, too."

Sam did not even hesitate in slamming her hand into her face.

* * *

_Tonopah Testing Range, Nevada_

_(Also Known as Area 51)_

_Sunday, 2134 P.M._

_Two Weeks after Accidental Civilian Sighting of *****(Highly Classified) Bogie 3.5 miles from nearest suburbs of Bullhead City. Debriefing with *****(Highly Classified) and other members of *****, along with any involved parties._

"At ease. Please take your seats."

Three men in formal military uniform sat down at a large oak-wood conference table. Around them in place of chairs and other persons were three view screens, and one man who remained standing.

"Gentlemen. We've gathered here for a debriefing on what is as of now an unknown ***** piece of technology. His view screen shows no image for security reasons, but we have with us today *****, *****. ****, could you please start us off?"

There was a nod, even though no one present could see it.

"Of course, General. The ***** has many lost ***** of our long *****. Things like powerful *****, *****, and ***** long forgotten were ***** for protection, in hopes that one day ***** would end, and we could rediscover all that we had lost."

The occupants of the room listened on in silence.

"Approximately two weeks prior to this day, a high danger level ***** was tracked landing approximately 3.5 miles from the suburbs of an Arizona City designation Bullhead, and two *****, Second in Command ***** and Sniper *****, were dispatched with a platoon of trained ***** soldiers to contain the threat. When they arrived, the *****, a member of the elite *****, designation *****, was found with a ***** hostage."

A few murmurs that quieted sprang up.

"Was the ***** killed?" One of the men on the view screen asked.

There was a slight crackle from the speaker, as though someone had sighed deeply.

"No. The *****, an adolescent *****, designation Samantha Hope Johnson, was mostly unharmed. She was removed from danger by *****."

"And what was the ***** doing there?" The men who were actually present in the room, having remained silent up until now, finally spoke up.

"The ***** were in the area the same reason the ***** were; they were tracking the signal from a crashed ***** that landed three days prior around 0330 A.M." One young, clean shaven man stated. "It seems that whatever was in the ***** was removed by ***** before the ***** could get there. But, coincidentally, the girl who was involved suddenly became a valuable eye-witness." The young man stepped back, and now an older, balding man stepped forward.

He had wrinkles on his face, but that did not dissuade the aura of youth he gave off. His eyes, normally shining with something lighter, were cold and professional as he opened a manila folder.

"The girl, Samantha, or just Sam, as she prefers, was able to describe, and to an extent even illustrate, in surprising detail, the object that was in the crash site." He flipped through a few pages. "Here in her statement she described it as such; "It was about the size of a beach ball, and pretty light. Round, too, like one. It almost looked like a puzzle, with lots of little lines and panels, and what might have been lights all across it. There was a band around the middle, kind of like a ring.

"It was indented, or inset, or whatever, into the ball, and there were a bunch of squiggly lines written on it. It made me think of hieroglyphics, except, Japanese hieroglyphics, since it was more lines and dots than pictures. When I shook it, it sounded like something inside rattled. Apparently, you shouldn't shake round, metal, mysterious balls, but I didn't know that at the time."" He cleared his throat at the end, trying to smother the smile that was threatening to overtake his lips. Once he regained his composure, he went on.

"Furthermore, she later went on to quote what ***** said while she was in captivity. "The ***** kept on calling that ball thing I told ya'll about earlier a 'sphere.' Well, not 'a' sphere, more like 'the' sphere. Aside from that, I was kind of too terrified to tell exactly what ***** was saying, except that ***** was upset when I wouldn't let go, as I kind of had it in a death grip at the time. Now that I think about it, there might have been some kind of clicking or crunching noise or something. I'm not sure.""

The man, finished reading, looked up from the folder.

"If you will please turn your attention to your screens, I will now display the image that Sam drew of the 'sphere', as it was called." Lifting a small clicker form his pants pocket, he pressed a single button and waited.

Elsewhere, the individuals behind the screens were intently studying a crudely drawn image, done in pencil on notebook paper. In another situation, they might have found humor in the small side notes, labeling the "Egyptian-Japanese hieroglyphs", and the "cool panels", and one in particular noting how shiny the object had been.

Instead, a grave silence settled over the room.

Finally, ***** spoke.

"I am afraid I do indeed know what this is. This object...was known as the ht/p87&9/****Nov*****us** **Glo*******b*****e*****/q502rf**."

"In the hands of the *****...I fear the worst."

* * *

_Note: This was a true struggle in the beginning; we just couldn't seem to get the dynamics of her reunion correct, but after the first twelve pages it suddenly returned to its previous level of difficulty; long and exhausting but satisfying._

_For those are wondering, as surely someone is wondering, the "bleeped" items in the teaser in the end are equivalent to those blacked out lines in top secret documents. It has been edited out for being classified as too sensitive for the public, or in this case, the readers._

_The series of five asterisks can represent multiple words, and hopefully there are a few hints. We'd be interested to see how much of it you all could guess! (Benu wants to do prizes, but my availability is limited, so this may or may not become a reality.)_

_Thank you so much for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing._

_Thanks much, and please come again._


	6. Re-evaluation

Dear Karma

A Transformers Story

_Co-written by Mein Benutzername and A Humble Reader_

_Beta and Advisor: icanhascamaro_

_Note: Welcome back, dear readers. If you haven't already checked, there are now links up on our profile with images of the city in which Sam lives, along with information on the story in general, such as plot devices, universe rules, and what characters will and won't be involved in this story. Feel free to check it out, unless you'd rather not._

_Then just read, I suppose._

_Please enjoy the story, and leave a review if you deem us worthy._

Words: 7231

Pages: 24

* * *

Chapter 4

Re-evaluation

_In which the nightmare is evidently not quite over yet and one is given the unfortunate job of taking it all in stride._

* * *

It'd been approximately one month since Sam had suffered through a highly traumatizing near death experience, insufferable government processes to ensure the secrecy of said traumatizing event, and a love-struck and subsequently heartbroken mother.

She did not know how much more she could take. How much more her _head _could take.

Admittedly, Sam thought it was sweet her mom had found somebody she liked a lot, that somebody being the "rich foreigner" that was actually working for the super-top-secret government agency Sam hadnever caught the name of, but part of her wondered if it was just an act to make sure her mom didn't get suspicious.

And of course, the one time she wanted to be completely and utterly _wrong _about something, she just _had _to hit the nail on the head. After her mom had been unofficially seeing the guy for about a week and a half, he up and left, and in the process managed to effectively friend-zone her mother.

It was kinda sad to watch really, because Sam had a feeling her mom was really into the guy, and it wasn't just the (possibly fake) accent or the (government) money. So she was left to deal with her Mom moping around the house when she was home and spending more time than usual at work.

Honestly, she had never paid it much mind, but she'd been through the process before. It wasn't like her mom had ever sworn off love after her dad did...whatever. (Left? Died? Joined the circus? She didn't really care.) She had just never thought about her momactually going out on a _date. _(Normally she just ignored it and didn't really dwell. But actually picturing her mom dressed up and out at dinner with somebody for something other than business? _Hilarious._)

And, just like after every failed attempt at romance, there was the _low _period, during which she threw a small pity party for one and spent a lot of hours at work.

(Penelope had a running bet/theory that people at her workplace would eventually start trying to set her up with crappy guys so she would fall into the low period and get more work done, as if she didn't do enough already.)

Normally it lasted a few days. But it'd been longer than a few days, and her mom was still ignoring the chores (and her) in favor of throwing herself into her work.

Sam decided that she officially hated coping mechanisms. They were practically _useless_.

So, left alone once again with nothing to do but slump around her house and play with Sweetie if she was feeling a little _too _lonely, Sam wasn't really having a nice day. Mostly, it was boring. Frustrating to an extent, because the milk went bad and Sweetie pooped in the hall again, but mostly boring.

Boring boring boring.

Too much time to _think._

Think about _those _things.

Like that god damn _ball._

Sam sighed as she felt her train of thought subtly shift from how _bored _she was to _that _again.

"I'm so tired of this..." She muttered, rubbing her eyes and stumbling lamely into the living room. She had a pounding headache (most likely from how _frustrated _and _angry _she was at herself that she was going to do this, _again._) and it wasn't going away. Falling listlessly onto the couch, managing to sprawl herself out across the entire thing like only a talented few could, she lazily slapped one arm over her eyes and groaned in misery.

"No no no...do not want..." Sam groaned again, but she already knew it was too late. Her mind was buzzing with the opportunity of something interesting to waste time with, even if _she _felt completely sick of it. Clearly, she and her brain were two separate entities.

She sighed again.

"Alright. Fine. What do we know?" She began wiggling one foot in the air, as though tapping her toes to a beat only she could hear.

"We know that it was light weight. We know that it was made of metal. Not really sure what kind though...well, it certainly wasn't aluminum foil. Oh wait. I bet it was...robotium or something. Yeah. From Cyberkon. Or something. Why are all of those words so hard to pronounce? Like...Cyber-something-ium? Ugh..." Sam shifted slightly and let her eyes wander around the room while she thought, her foot still dancing in the air. She lazily eyed Sweetie as the big Golden Retriever slowly padded into the living room with her. Sweetie Pie ambled on over to her and plopped her butt on the ground, and her head on the couch, big doggy eyes looking at her and begging for a nice pet.

Sam obliged her, stroking her dog absently. Her foot now had a rhythm to follow in the thumping of the animal's tail on the ground.

"So, some alien metal. Probably stronger than human metal. Damn, aliens get all the good shit. Laser canons, space bridges, practically living forever...no, wait, that last one would suck. Well, maybe. I'm not sure. Anyway...Metal, blah blah. Lots of lines. Panels, I guess. Since it's a transformers thing it can probably at the very least shifts or something."

Sweetie Pie closed her eyes for a nap next to her beloved person.

Sam continued petting her.

"So it transforms. Into what? That suit man said bomb. So, it could be a bomb, but how would it do that? Maybe just get cooler looking...but wasn't most of the show about getting energy? Or was that just Prime? No, it was both...so it could be an energy source. Okay. Bomb, energy source...is it like the Allspark? ...Pfft, no way. If it was, they wouldn't have let that police car take me, he would've gone after Skywarp. Yeah, okay, Allspark ruled out. Maybe it's like an attachment weapon? Oh, or an overshield, like Johnny's Halo number whatsit. Or maybe it's got the answer to the universe in it. Hm. The good guys will be pretty disappointed after they realize we figured _that _one out ages ago. Fourty-two-" Sam's reluctant musing was interrupted by someone ringing her doorbell. The teenager frowned, silently hoping that maybe it was her polite Hispanic friend Mary and not Anna trying to jump her again. It wasn't even _close _to being school time, or Halloween yet.

Groaning, Sam slowly stood up and lifted her fists above her head in a stretch, standing on her tiptoes. She felt her back pop and sighed contentedly. Shuffling over to the door only slightly more dignified than she had been earlier, she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle an oncoming yawn and opened the door.

Sam blinked.

And blinked again.

And blinked once more.

She narrowed her eyes and frowned.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes and pinched her arm, but the balding man in the stiff suit was still standing on her doorstep with an apologetic, slightly amused smile on his face.

There was a tense silence.

Paul Blakemore gave the (now glaring) teen a more genuine smile. "Sam. How are you doing?"

"You're at my house."

"Yes, I am at your house."

"Why are you at my house."

"I need to talk to you about something."

"No offense, but I don't _want _to talk to you. You're nice, and I like you, but you being here equals things I don't want to think about. Which equals me being unhappy and grumpy and a pest. Which I _know _you don't want to deal with, so, if you'll just let me shut the door, you can be on your way and I can-"

Paul put one foot on the door to halt its progress. "You know I can't do that**,** Sam. Either you let me in, or we go for a ride."

Sam glanced behind him to see a military jeep with two soldiers sitting in it, chatting with each other, shooting occasional glances in their direction. She grumbled under her breath but opened the door all the way, allowing Paul inside with an unhappy frown and a hand on her hip.

Paul smiled warmly and went inside and made himself at home in one of the armchairs in the living room while she took her place back on the couch. She also picked up her huge dog and set her on her lap, hugging her and pulling her knees up. Or at least, she tried too. In reality she managed to heft the big girl off of the floor and halfway onto the couch, before her meager upper-arm strength prevented her from moving past that point. _Luckily, _she had the sweetest dog _ever, _and the Retriever climbed the rest of the way up herself, settling down in Sam's lap just like she wanted her to.

"What do you want." She asked him.

Paul pulled his right foot onto his left leg and clasped his hands together. "I've been sent by my bosses to speak to you again regarding the object you found in the crater."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Rule number one of the contracts was never to speak as though it actually happened unless I was in a secured facility where no one could intercept or eavesdrop on information, _if _anyone ever spoke to me about this again, which _you, _by the way, told me was highly unlikely."

Paul smiled. "You actually remembered that, huh? I guess saying it about seventytimes really does drill it into a person."

"Guess so."

"It's safe." He assured her. "We have an Autobot monitoring all signals in the area and jamming all devices in the house. They're also scanning for enemies and recording our conversation."

Sam shivered, despite herself, at his (supposedly reassuring) words, and mumbled, "I hope you know that's really probably the least comforting thing I've ever heard in my life."

Paul chuckled and he suddenly didn't seem quite as friendly as when Sam had seen him last. Part of her knew it was probably because this was apparently official, and being recorded, but she still had to wonder if maybe that was all just a lie, to make her comfortable.

"Well, the more you know." He joked. "Speaking of knowing things, Sam...about the item, at the crash site."

Sam shifted in her huddle of limbs and dog, and attempted to pull further into herself. "Yeah? What about it?" She looked away from him and studied the living room as though she hadn't been seeing it every day of her life. Why did everything always seem to swing back around to that stupid ball?

"You told us that you picked up the sphere and shook it, and after that you held onto it rather than let go and allow the Level 7 Mech-"

"It was Skywarp."

Paul halted in his speech, looking at her, and seemingly a little surprised. She stared back evenly before averting her eyes again. "Excuse me?"

"It was Skywarp." She repeated. "What, you guys thought I wouldn't figure that out? It's kind of hard not to when my friend is a diehard for Transformers stuff." Sam tucked her face into Sweetie's fur while the dog remained complacently in her lap. Sam was glaring at him again. "Haven't you been at least like, monitoring my computer or something? Or my conversations? That seems like very government-y thing to do."

Paul recovered himself and shrugged. "I won't say anything as far as monitoring goes, but honestly most civilians who witness the Cybertronians want nothing to do with it afterwards. They'd much prefer to pretend it never happened."

Sam shifted again, slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I was a little curious."

Paul studied her with an expression she couldn't quite identify. "Before we continue, may I ask what makes you think it was Skywarp?"

Sam scoffed. "Are you kidding me? From what Anna's told me, if it was anyone _but _Skywarp I'd be _dead._ Starscream would've gone on about how I was such a disgusting pest or something, and then promptly wasted _way _too much energy on killing me. And if it was _Thundercrcker?_" She outright laughed. "Don't even get me started on that piece of work. He woulda killed me as a mercy, sparing me the pain of having to live as a human any longer. And besides, Starscream and Thundercracker have _totally _different...different..." Sam frowned. It was on the tip of her tongue. She just _knew it._

It was so hard to describe. They were just _different. _She _knew _that it was Skywarp. No way it was anybody else!

It was probably the hours of merciless Transformers-Teaching done by Anna Hopkins getting to her. That girl...

"Different...what?" Paul asked her, now frowning himself. He had uncrossed his legs and was leaning forwards, almost expectantly.

Sam shrugged, even though she was still vaguely unsure of what she was originally going to say. "Different colors! Actually, I don't even know if what I think I know is right, because to Anna it's all sunshine and rainbows, and Wikipedia is ruthless." She shrugged again.

Paul smiled and sighed, rubbing his temple, and leaning back in his seat. "I always get so off track talking to you, Sam. Listen, my superiors want to know if you noticed anything odd about the sphere. Besides the rattling and the general appearance, was there anything else? Anything at all that you could give us?"

Sam shrugged. "Why do you ask?" She gave Sweetie a firm pat before shooing her out of the room. Once the dog was out of her lap, she leaned back and crossed her arms.

Paul narrowed his eyes at her. "Because the object was a very dangerous device that is now in the hands of the enemy, Sam. You were the first one to come into contact with it after it crashed. Our sources believe it was damaged. It could be radioactive, or perhaps the materials inside it, or what it was made out of, is deadly to humans. Your life could be in danger."

For a moment, just one moment, Sam stopped breathing.

"Oh." She swallowed. "That's...oh."

Paul smiled at her sympathetically. Suddenly, her senses returned to her.

Sam's thoughts went into hyper drive as she slowly began clicking pieces together in her brain.

One month. Almost exactly. Probably not coincidence.

Radiation. Advanced robots. Probably not. Right? Because, well, come _on. _Wasn't their first priority to keep humans they were involved with from getting hurt or something? Or...was that propaganda? Moving on...

Metal, dangerous to humans? Well, okay, she could see that one being possible (because aliens)...but...wouldn't they have checked for this stuff already on her first time through? Honestly, she was about to be pretty disappointed in the government's secret alien society if they didn't check for this kind of stuff as standard procedure.

Okay. So, Paul was lying to her then? Sam, for some reason, felt a little betrayed at that. She had _liked _Paul, dammit.

The girl shoved her bitterness aside and continued unwinding this..._problem _in her mind while she listened to the man speak. Her arms remained crossed and she did her best to look bored.

"Yes. Now then, I'd like to know if you've been feeling any different since you came into contact with the item. Perhaps clumsiness, a loss of balance, headaches, stiffness. Anything?"

She was _so _not confirming any of this. (So what if she had a huge migraine right now? And so what if she had some other headaches recently? It was probably all _Anna's _fault anyway.) Movie Rule #1, _never reveal the truth to shady government agencies._

Feeling like slapping herself for that particular thought, Sam decided to stop drinking soda before eating anything else.

"No. Nothing. I've been totally fine, and quite happy, being completely normal and uninvolved in your alien tv show poop stuff. Hint hint, please leave. I seriously can't help you."

Paul sighed and shifted in his seat, and began rubbing his temple again. "Alright, you've had no side effects. Is there anything else you remember about the sphere? A specific pattern, color, texture? Anything?"

Sam, despite herself, snorted a little. "Yes. It was silver, and smooth, and it had Cyber-whatsit on the ring in the middle. Oh wait, isn't that what I already told you? It is!" She was being a brat. At this point she just wanted him to leave, _soon_.

"Sam-"

"Paul."

"_Samantha."_

It was at this point that Sam felt she was awfully close to crossing the line. It was actually pretty disturbing how similar this was to how arguments with her mom usually went. Katherine would stay calm for the most part, Sam would grow increasingly annoyed and get snarky, and then she'd get about half an inch away from pushing her mom over the edge. Sam felt like she now knew for _sure_ that Paul had kids.

"Listen to me." His tone was more serious, and demanding now, and Sam got smart and kept her mouth shut. "This is not just some joke. You are the _only _source of information on this possible, probably _highly dangerous alien weapon. _We need all of the information you can give us. Even if you think it's something totally and utterly _insignificant. _I have been sent here, by the _government, _and this is something you need to take seriously, and not like some game."

Sam swallowed nervously and nodded.

Paul pulled out a cellphone and looked at something, and sighed again.

"Sam, you're going to have to come with me."

* * *

She fidgeted nervously in the back seat of the jeep. Her fingers danced and twitched awkwardly on her legs, expressing just how anxious she was. But, in between her tiny dance, there was the occasional rapid-fire tapping that revealed the hidden anger and frustration at her situation, lying just beneath the surface.

Hadn't she literally _just _been through this? Just been dragged through so much stuff that when she got home she was too relieved for words because for a little bit she actually thought she might _never see it again?_

Well, okay, maybe that wasn't entirely true. Honestly, that thought hadn't crossed her mind even once. Sam grumbled internally and shifted in her seat, moving one hand from her lap to cup her cheek and leaning her elbow on the windowsill. She had been a little preoccupied with the Transformer-Giant-Robot part of it, but it definitely made it more dramatic to think back on it that way.

She was on the right side of the jeep, and next to her was a stiff, seemingly emotionless military dude. Honestly, she was kinda afraid to try and talk to him, or even Paul. She was nervous, Paul was serious, and the solider-boy has his hands on him gun. (And Sam did not particularly _like _guns.)

Sam stifled an exasperated sigh, but a yawn escaped instead. Resisting the urge to glance at the other occupants of the vehicle to see if maybe they glanced at her, Sam continued to stare determinedly out the window.

And then her most favorite government worker, in just, oh, this history of the _whole freaking universe _decided that no, he wasn't going to let her stare out the window and pretend she was _anywhere else._

"Sam-"

"Please don't talk to me. I'm kinda busy just wallowing in misery back here. I wouldn't want to infect you with it, or something."

Any amount of maturity she had acquired when Paul got all serious in the house had evaporated the moment he said she'd have to come with him.

Because _in reality, _what he was _really _saying was 'Alright, looks like I've wasted enough time for the both of us, I can tell you that you're basically being kidnapped now, as that was actually the whole purpose of my visit.'

God damn government pieces of _shit._

"Sam, it was necessary. We couldn't just let someone with such sensitive information be out there for anyone to try and take advantage of." Paul glanced at her from his seat, having to twist back awkwardly to do it. She shot him a glare and returned to her window while he just shook his head. Paul faced the front again.

"Sensitive...sensitive _nonexistent _information...freaking...government _bastards..._" Sam began muttering incoherently under her breath, only a few of her words intelligible, though they were still too quiet for the others to hear. She was totally fed up with this. She had already told them literally _everything _that she knew about it. Everything! She had been spitefully specific in that report or confession or whatever they had her write down. It had been _multiple pages. _Which was honestly more than she could say for any of her in-class essays. (Short but awesome, they had always been A's. Well, mostly.)

"Sam?"

"..."

"Alright. I'll assume you're listening, then." (Definitely had kids.) "In roughly an hour, you'll be blindfolded for security reasons. Do you understand?"

"..."

"Sam, unless you answer me with a 'yes' in roughly the next five seconds, I will not be able to report that you've been cooperating, and things will become significantly less easy for the both of us."

"...Yes. I understand your stupid rules."

"Good. Now then, do you want to know what's going to happen when we arrive?"

"..."

"I can see you're interested. When we arrive, your purse will once again be taken and searched-"

"Why did you even have me take that anyway?" Sam interrupted. She actually was kind of really really curious, but that was a secret.

"For the cover story." He responded smoothly, not missing a beat. "Your bag will be taken and searched, and you'll undergo-"

"What? Why do you need a cover story if I'm only gonna be there for, like, a few hours? I could've gone for a walk, or whatever." Sam heard Paul sigh up front and this time glared back at him when he twisted around to see her.

Paul leaned one elbow on the back of his seat, and the solider driving glanced at him, but said nothing.

"This is going to take more than just 'a few hours', Samantha-"

"Don't call me that." She snapped. Paul just smiled at her in response, and she frowned at the amusement behind it, but continued anyway. She might as well get this sorted out now. "My name is Sam. Not Samantha, or any stupid variation or off-shoot of such. Not _Sammy, _or _Sunshine, _or whatever the heck else you decide would be a good nickname, my name is _Sam. _Okay, _Paulie?_"

Paul looked at her very seriously, and nodded. "Of course, Sam, an honest mistake on my part. I was only _mostly _completely certain that your full name is Samantha Hope Johnson and that your friends, do, in fact, call you Sunny, Sunshine, Sammy, and variations of the same sort."

Sam scowled at him and unintentionally made some kind of weird growling, gurgling noise in the back of her throat. She coughed into her fist to cover it up, crossed her arms, scooted closer to the door, and proceeded to stare out the window (angrily.).

"Shut up."

Paul chuckled at her and the teen was pretty sure she saw the driver chuckle out of the corner of her eye with him, but she ignored them both on favor of watching them enter Bullhead City. Bullhead was the place she always wrote as "Where You Live" on those surveys they passed out at school, even if it was really in one of the mini-districts full of suburbs in their own little squares on the outskirts.

Random thoughts, go away.

"As I was saying." Paul continued, still grinning at her from his spot in the front. "This will be more than a few hours. Now, when you get there, after your purse has been taken, you'll 'suffer through' a medical examination by some of our finest personnel. And then you'll be taken to dinner, and afterwards settled in for the duration of your stay. Tomorrowyou'll probably be questioned."

Sam 'hmph'd' in response. "Okay. Sounds swell. What's the cover story, exactly?" She asked him, still refusing to look away from the window.

"Actually, this has been in the works for at least a week or two. Your mother has been planning a 'special getaway' for you with one of our agents. She'll expect you to be gone when she returns home. Your things will come in tomorrow, by the way."

Sam looked away from the window. _"What?"_

Paul smiled again. "I'm sure you've noticed your mother spending longer amounts of time at work?"

Sam shook her head back and forth, as though to clear it. "No. That's just what she does whenever she gets friend-zoned or whatever by somebody she likes. No way-"

"She's actually been planning a two-week long trip for you. You'll be staying at a nice camp somewhere in...where was it?...St. George, Utah." Paul scratched the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "I apologize for this. But it really is necessary."

Sam looked at him.

She closed her mouth, and blinked.

She was completely and utterly done.

"I really, really, _intensely_ dislike secret organizations that work for the government and all of their _stupid _ass rules." Sam looked at the window again, but before she could allow her mind to vacate the premises, the solider she had been sitting next to finally spoke up.

"You and me both, kid."

"..."

That was it.

"My _name_ is SAM!"

Paul laughed up in the front.

* * *

After an absolutely _excruciating _two and a half hour drive, plus being blind folded and hour or so before they even _got there,_ Sam had finally given up on being angry and annoying. (Except for the ever-useful, somewhat over-used but always a classic, _"Are we there yet?", _of course.) Instead, by the time they arrived, she was simply resigned to her fate.

It certainly didn't help that at some point during the trip Paul mentioned the fact that she had gone over all of the agreements with him and they had singled out a clause about the government being able to take her in at any point in the future for further questioning, free of repercussions. At the time, she had been a little wary, but ended up being okay with it, because deep down she had _highly doubted _that she would ever see the government again.

Now she was somewhere underground, (as followed all cliché secret government agencies. Except SHIELD, of course. Avengers? Helicarrier? Anybody?) The blindfold was still on, they had taken her bag, and Paul had left her alone with random solider boy from the car to be led around like a handicrapped criminal. (She was in _handcuffs. _Way to make a girl feel welcome.)

After way too much walking for her tastes, Sam was taken in to what could have been either another endless hallway or a room, and was confirmed as the latter when she was sat down on a nice, uncomfortable, plastic chair.

Finally, _finally, _her blindfold and her handcuffs were removed. She blinked the spots out of her eyes for a few moments, and rubbed them with her palms mercilessly. Next came the rubbing of her wrists, because they weren't traditional, metal handcuffs but horrid, painful, chafing plastic-tie ones.

"Ugh. I really hate blindfolds, and handcuffs, and _plastic _in general..." Sam grumbled quietly. She looked up from her aching hands to see her escort just kind of loitering near the door. He wasn't even at attention or whatever, just, hands in his pockets, whistling quietly to himself.

Sam consoled herself with the thought that at least she wasn't the only hopelessly bored person here.

Glancing around her surroundings, there wasn't much to look at. It was a bland little waiting room, with plastic chairs, and an old beat up coffee table with some ratty looking magazines on it.

After debating with herself for a few minutes, Sam got up and looked at the magazines. They were all outdated, and most of them were about cars. (Ha.) She did find one semi-recent National Geographic magazine about Whales, so she grabbed that one and started leafing through the pages.

By the time anyone else came in Sam had finished the main article on whales, read another on the consequences of whaling, one on new discoveries made on the ocean floor, and was halfway through a seemingly unrelated piece about a particle accelerator in Germany and miniature black holes. (A terrifying thought.)

The man who came in was old, very old, in fact. His hair was a light, almost-white gray and thinning, and he sported a clean-cut beard. He was wearing typical doctor-ly clothes and wore a frown on his face. He looked like he _could _be Grandpa material, but he'd definitely be a grumpy one. Nothing in particular really stood out about him; he was average height, maaaaaybe rocking a bit of a belly (just a bit), and had an average face.

Honestly, he was just another guy working at a military facility.

Therefore, he was to be presumed evil until proven otherwise. Unless he was nice, or something.

"Samantha Johnson?" He asked, gruffly, as he approached. He held a clipboard under his arm but didn't look at it, in favor of trying to stare a hole straight through her head.

Having had time to recover and regain some attitude, (and a new knowledge of whales amongst other things) Sam glanced around the room as though looking for someone. She might have also still been a little stingy after Paul revealed her slew of abhorred nicknames in the car.

Stupid Paul.

"Samantha? I don't see anybody. Maybe you're in the wrong top secret waiting room. Wait, is there more than one? I'm not sure..."

The man scoffed and shook his head. "God Almighty." He muttered to the ceiling. "Why did I have to get one of _those._"

Sam shot him an offended glare. "Excuse me? I'm one of _those? _That's not offensive."

The man shook his head and sighed, rubbing his temples as though he could already feel the headache forming.

"Are you or are you not Samantha Hope Johnson?" The intensity and sheer amount of _grouch_ in his gaze made her want to go huddle in a corner in utter shame, especially since she had been outdone in the stare-down department by an old man, so she did the next best thing and looked away instead.

"Yes." She muttered, studying the plain, boring room to her left. "I _prefer_ Sam, though."

The man shook his head again and motioned for her to get up. "Yes, well, Samantha. _I'd _prefer not to _be _here right now. Seems we don't always get what we want, do we? No, we don't. Take me away from one pair of snot nosed brats and land me with another."

Sam followed behind him making faces at his back. _Rude old fart. _So what if she was being bratty and grumpy? He was being grumpy and rude and basically hitting the nail on the head, which wasn't helping her attitude _one bit, _mind you.

"Stop that."

Sam snapped her mouth shut and put her hands down. Apparently he had eyes in the back of his head. It would be wise to remember this. Sam made a mental note. (On the topic of notes, she would need her sticky notes; she'd been out for a while. Maybe if she wrote motivational phrases on them she wouldn't try to kill herself when she woke up.)

Mr. Rude-Doctor led her to a pretty normal looking check-up room. He took her weight and measured her height, and she suffered through it silently. It seemed that if she didn't talk, then he didn't either, so she kept her mouth shut. After all of that was done, along with some more unintelligible grumbling from the both of them, she was led to another room.

There, he sat her down on the cushioned examination table with that horrid crinkly (wax?) paper on it. He put his hands on his hips and scrutinized her while she glared back at him and swung her legs aimlessly.

Finally, the man shook his head and sighed. "Alright, _Sam. _My name is Doctor Joseph Barnes, but you'll call me Doctor Barnes. Are we clear?" His arms were crossed and he was giving her one of those _stern _looks, like there would be blood if she didn't do what he said. It was only a _little _absolutely terrifying.

Sam nodded mutely.

He nodded once himself and walked over to a cabinet in the room, and began taking out some stuff. "Do you know why you're here, Sam?"

Sam kicked her feet once more and then stopped to think. "I'm here because...Paul Blakemore is a lying bastard and I accidentally saw a giant alien robot when it tried to kill me and get a metal ball thing. And apparently I could like, Hulk out at any moment, so I guess you're testing for that now."

Doctor Barnes smirked to himself where he was cleaning a syringe. "A lying bastard, you say? I've met the man. He seems honest enough. Also, no, you will not '_Hulk out'._"

Sam shuffled on her table-seat and sighed, cradling her face in her hands with her elbows on her knees. "Damn. Being able to do that sounded pretty useful. Yeah, well, anyway, he implied that the first government half-kidnapping fiasco would be the only one, when he very well knew I could easily be taken in again. Really I guess it's stupid bureaucrats or something, but still. Damn politics."

Doctor Barns held the syringe up to the light to inspect it, before making his way back over to her. He gestured for her arm, and she gave it to him.

"Well." He said conversationally as he swabbed the inside of her elbow with an alcohol wipe. "I suppose that's just the way it is. However, you are right, we're going to have to run several tests to make sure you weren't contaminated, or infected with something. I'm taking a blood sample now. This might hurt a little, so I'll count to three."

Sam nodded.

"One..." Sam hadn't tensed up in preparation yet, when apparently Doctor Barnes decided that _"Count to three"_ REALLY meant _"Count to one and then viciously impale your arm"_, and Sam winced.

"Hey!"

Doctor Barnes chuckled and quickly finished drawing the blood. "It didn't hurt as much as you expected it would, did it?" He moved away to go and store her _blood _somewhere...yuck. But...

"Well...no..." She admitted, rubbing the tender spot. "But that was _mean."_

The man just chuckled and gave her a Transformers band aid. (Oh well, these guys were just _hilarious._)

"When you tense up your arm in preparation like that, it usually ends up hurting more. It was simpler to do it when you didn't expect it."

"Oh."

After he took her blood, he did the usual things that got done at Doctor's offices and stuff. You know, check the reflexes, look in the eyes and ears, check the throat. She also had to pee in a cup, something she always hated, so she made a big fuss to him about that. (Not that he took any heed of it. In fact, he told her that if she didn't get in that bathroom and stop complaining and produce some liquids within the next ten seconds, he would come in there with her. Needless to say the man got his pee after that.)

Apparently, this was all just the easy stuff.

"Now then." Doctor Barnes said after the 'pee fiasco.' "You're going to have to go through a simplistic X-Ray, an MRI, and a PET scan. This is a basic X-ray, so it will have no adverse effects on your health. The MRI is completely safe, and there are very few side-effects to a PET, and they're rare, at best. There will be one other scan, to preform, as well. This is to see if we can find anything foreign in your system, or if the object has done anything to you. However, we can't exactly do everything today. You'll come back periodically over the weeks you spend here." Sam nodded.

He removed some kind of PDA from his pocket and motioned for her to follow him to some other part of the medical wing of the super-top secret underground facility, tapping at the screen and muttering relentlessly. He walked at a brisk pace ahead of her, and she shuffled on along behind him. Part of her wondered how somebody who looked so old and acted so crotchety could move so fast.

It was about an hour later when she was finally deemed as completely "done" with her medical over-examination. They had only done the X-ray, but he had to explain how the machine worked to her as a requirement, and then do the procedure, and then make sure all of the images were clear. Doctor Barnes shook her hand and goodbye...in his own special way.

"Don't make me come and do this again." He near-scolded her. Sam just shrugged and let his hand drop.

"_I _didn't make you come do it." She muttered. He just started walking away. "It's not _my _fault Skywarp decided to land practically on top of me..."

He stopped for a moment and glanced back at her. "Yes, well...be more aware, then."

Sam shrugged and wandered over to one of the chairs in the waiting room, where she had been left once again.

She sat for a while longer, and finished reading her National Geographic magazine from before, when another solider dude came in. He was just another face, really, though he was at least attempting to be pleasant and gave her a smile. He had a bag of McDonald's in his hand, though, and that's what Sam was _really _focused on.

"Oh, god, yes." She said, jumping up. "Is that for me? Is it really?" The guy just grinned a little more and offered her the bag. Sam released a tiny _'Yesssssss!' _under her breath and snatched the drugs- er, the meal from him, looking through the contents.

"If you'll follow me," The most wonderful being on the planet said to her, "I'll show you to your room."

Sam nodded, already pulling out a burger and grinning wildly. It felt like she hadn't had a burger in _ages. _"Uh huh. Sure thing. Can do, buckaroo. Oh god, this thing had _pickles, _yes!"

Her escort smiled once more and started walking. Sam followed behind him, probably the happiest she had been all day. After a long frustrating conversation, a long frustrating waiting period, and a long frustrating and mildly uncomfortable medical examination, she was ecstatic to find somebody who wouldn't make her suffer through another long and frustrating experience.

Otherwise, she might have called it quits there and then.

Sam didn't complain even once about the length of the hallways or her feet hurting or the grumpy doctor and the bathroom threats that frankly freaked her out more than she cared to admit.

She had scarfed her burger and fries by the time they reached "her" room, and was just polishing off the last of the soda (which _someone _was thoughtful enough to provide for her, thank the _Lord_) when her favorite military person thus far unlocked the door, and showed her inside.

In the middle of the room was a pristinely mad bed, and honestly it looked too good to be true. She was stopped from running and jumping straight into the thing by the man behind her clearing his throat. Sam turned to face him.

"You will be locked in at night. If you need anything, there will usually be _someone _near the door who could help you. There's a bathroom over there-" He said and pointed to his left. "-and that's really it. Someone will retrieve you for questioning, meals, and anything else that requires you to leave this room."

Sam nodded. "Alright. Uh...thanks."

The guy grinned and nodded, before spinning around and shutting the door behind him with a firm click.

Sam was left alone in this unfamiliar room, this unfamiliar place. Suddenly the bed didn't look so comfy anymore.

She sighed and looked around for a trash can to throw her Micky D's paper mess in.

There was none.

Groaning, she merely tossed it in a corner instead, opting to glance around. On the right of the bed was a dresser for her clothes, and on the left, the bathroom. There was a TV, too, but it was really small and old, which kind of sucked, and she wondered if it even worked.

Throwing herself tiredly onto the bed, the teenager didn't even bother getting under the covers.

Rolling herself over onto her back, she curled up around herself and closed her eyes.

"Goodbye, normalcy. See you in the morning. Not."

And so she fell asleep.

* * *

_Elsewhere..._

"I feel sorry for this kid. Did we really have to bring her in again, sir? She did already give a pretty thorough report, especially considering the circumstances." Paul Blakemore, general PR and civilian liaison to the Autobots, questioned the being before him. He was currently conversing with none other than Optimus Prime, the _esteemed _leader of the Autobots, via view screen.

That's not to say the conversation was getting anywhere.

There was a sigh on the other end.

"I am afraid so, Agent Blakemore. Though I would much prefer to leave civilians especially out of our conflicts, it is a necessity." The Autobot was sounding regal and professional as always, with just enough of a hint of emotion in his voice to let Paul know he was sincere.

Frustrated, the man rubbed his forehead, at a loss. "And why is that? I mean, she's really just a _kid, _Optimus. She's in the teenager stage and everything, and thinks she's grown up, but she's _not. _She's one of the most childish, stubborn, and _moody _people I have ever met. I don't want to make her go through this." He gave the bot a stern look through the screen. "You know how it is here; once you get in, it's very hard to get _out. _That's why we have our quick policy, and the revised story for accidental encounters. But this-" Paul was interrupted when Optimus held up his hand on-screen.

"I understand your concern, Agent Blakemore. But I assure you, this _is _all _very _necessary. That is why I sent my _best _medic there to inspect her himself."

Paul just shook his head at Optimus' words. "I'm trusting you here, Optimus. I sincerely hope to god it isn't as bad as you think it is, and that in the end, Samantha Johnson can just go home."

There was a nod. "This is my wish, as well. I do hope I am wrong. However, Agent Blakemore, before you leave, there is another change I would appreciate you informing the Major of."

Paul cocked and eyebrow and crossed his arms. "And that would be?"

"In roughly a week's time, I'll be sending the Autobot front-liners Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to your location. It is a...precaution, so that your people, and this girl, Samantha, will be better protected; especially after Bluestreak and Prowl were dispatched to A-616007." Optimus nodded to him, and Paul responded in kind.

"Understood. Consider it done."

"Till are one, my friend."

Paul grinned. "Till all are one."

* * *

_Note: Another long chapter, where seemingly very little pertaining to the plot occurs and you're wondering when things will finally pick up the pace._

_Good news for you, then, because things will start to (hopefully) pick up soon._

_In the meantime, there are quite a few hints throughout this chapter as too what's coming, who's involved, and maybe a few twists you just weren't expecting._

_Thank you for your time, and please leave us a review if you feel up to it._

_Thanks much, and please come again._


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